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One night, Scotland Yard's Sheriff Lestrade came to visit us. He often came to us, and Sherlock Holmes also welcomed his arrival because every time he visited, she could let Sherlock Holmes know about the situation at the police headquarters. In addition to listening to some of the information Lestrade said, Sherlock Holmes was also very interested in the details of the case the detective was dealing with. He listened very attentively every time, and sometimes used his rich knowledge and experience to help Inspector Lestrade give some suggestions and inspiration, but he never forced the other party.

That night, after Lestrade talked about the weather with the news in the newspaper, he smoked silently. Sherlock Holmes looked at him strangely.

Sherlock Holmes asked, "Are there any special cases on his hands?"

"Oh, no, Mr. Holmes, there is no unusual case."

"Tell me what to do."

Restrade smiled heartily.

"Forget it, Mr. Holmes, it's useless to hide it from you. I do have something to do now. But this is too ridiculous, and I don't even know if it should be told to you. But after all, this is not a big deal, but it's very strange. I know that all you are interested in are strange things, but I think Dr. Watson should take care of it more."

I asked: "Is it related to disease?"

"It's a kind of crazy disease, a very strange mental illness. Can you imagine it? Today, many years later, there are people who hate Napoleon and smash his image everywhere."

Sherlock Holmes lay on the backrest chair and said, "It really has nothing to do with me."

"Yes, I've said that. But when the man who broke someone else's Napoleon rushed to someone else's house, he should be sent to the police station, rather than considering whether he should be sent to the doctor."

Sherlock Holmes sat upright and said, "Run to someone else's house! This is really interesting. Tell me the detailed process."

Lestrade took out his notebook, opened it and looked at a few pages, as if he was afraid of missing something.

He said: "Four days ago, someone reported a case. It happened in Moss Hudson's store. He opened a small shop selling pictures and statues on Kennington Street. The clerk just walked away from the counter and heard something shattered. He immediately ran back to the counter and saw a bust of Napoleon's plaster that was placed on the counter with several other works of art. He immediately chased the street, but they did not pay attention to the person, nor did they pay attention to any identifiable characteristics of the person. On the surface, this incident seemed like a rogue behavior that often happened without a little meaning. The incident was reported to the police. The plaster image could sell up to a few shillings, so the whole process was really like a prank and had no value for investigation.

"But the second thing is much more serious and stranger than this. This happened last night.

"There is a famous doctor who also lives on Kennington Street, just a few hundred yards away from Moss Hudson's shop. The doctor was named Barnicott, who opened a very large hospital on the south bank of the Thames, but his house and important clinics were on Kennington Street, and there was a sub-clinic and pharmacy on Lower Blixton Street two miles away. Napoleon was the object of worship of the doctor Barnicott, and the books, portraits, relics of the French king were placed at home by him, everywhere. A few days ago, he bought two other half-body stones of Napoleon. The plaster was bought from the store of Moss Hudson, a replica of the famous work of French sculptor Divan. He placed one of them in the hall of the Kennington Street residence and the other on the mantel shelf of the Blixton Street clinic. Dr. Barneycott was surprised when he found that someone had come to his house at night, but only the plaster image in the hall was lost, and nothing else was lost. The plaster image was taken outside the house and fell to the garden wall, and the fragments were still at the foot of the wall."

Sherlocked her hands and said, "This is really strange."

"I had expected you to be interested in this, but I hadn't finished it. At twelve o'clock, Dr. Barnicott was going to his clinic. When he got there, he saw the window of the clinic being opened at night, and the bust of another Napoleon in the house was broken. From these two things, I did not find any clues about the hooligan or mentally ill who did such a prank, Mr. Holmes, now you understand everything."

"Things are strange, but not bizarre. Can you tell me that Dr. Barnicott's two broken busts are absolutely the same as the one in which Moss Hudson's store was broken?"

“It’s all made from the same mold.”

"This point can show that the person who broke these busts of Napoleon was not the one who hated Napoleon. Think about it carefully, there are countless statues of this king in London. Even if someone has a rebellious mentality for other people's idol worship, why do you choose three statues made in the same mold to vent your anger? It would be too strange if it happened."

"I had the same idea at the beginning, but Mos Hudson has been selling statues in that area, and these three statues have been in his store for a long time. Although you are right, there are many statues in London, but maybe there are only these three statues in that area. So a mentally ill person in that place chose these three statues. Doctor Watson, what do you think?"

I replied: "There are many manifestations of paranoia, and there is no limit. French psychologists once called a kind of paranoia. This kind of deficiencies is only reflected in some trivial things, but there is no abnormality in other things. If a person reads too many books about Napoleon, or his family inherits some psychological defects in his previous battles, there is a possibility of a certain 'parafied thought', and then under the influence of this psychology, do something inexplicable."

Holmes shook his head and said, "My good Watson, there is no reason. Even if there is a huge 'parassy thought', it is impossible for this intentional paranoid to find out the specific locations of these half-body statues."

"What do you think should be explained?"

"Explanation? I don't need it. But I understand that although this person's approach is a bit strange, there are still reasons for him. For example, in the lobby of Dr. Barnicott's house, because a little noise can wake up their whole family, he took the statue outside and broke it; but in the clinic, since no one found it, the statue was broken in the same place. This matter seems too unattractive on the surface, but when I think about some of the cases I handled before, I never did it at first.

The highlights begin, so even the smallest thing I can't think of it as useless. Watson, you shouldn't forget how the terrible thing that happened at the Abenetti's house started to notice! It was just that summer celery would sink very deep in butter. Therefore, Restrade, I cannot underestimate your case about these three broken body statues. If you are willing to tell me some new progress in this weird and bizarre thing, I will be grateful to you."

My partner wanted to figure out the case was much faster and miserable than he expected. The next morning, when I was changing clothes in the bedroom, a soft knock sounded, and Holmes came in with a telegram in his hand. He read it to me with a loud voice:

Please come to 131 Peter Street, Consinton District right away.

Restrade

I asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know - anything has the possibility of happening. But I think there must be new progress in the bosom sculpture. If this is true, we, the guy who specializes in the bosom sculpture, should perform his skills in another place in London. Watson, coffee was on the table, the carriage had already applauded, and stopped at the door."

Thirty minutes later, we arrived at Peter Street. This alley is near a very prosperous area in London, without any vitality and life. One Hundred and Thirty-one is in the middle of the neat and gorgeous house. When the carriage drove there, we found that there were many very curious people outside the fence in front of the house. Sherlock Holmes whistled.

"Oh my God! A murder happened. Otherwise, the newspaper boy in London would not have stopped his footsteps. Look at the man, his shoulders were arched and his neck was stretched long, it would have been impossible for a murder. Watson, what happened here? The top stairs were washed, but the rest were not. Well, there were a lot of footprints! Restrade stood at the front window, and we could understand everything immediately."

The sheriff led us to the living room with a serious expression. An old man in the living room was pacing back and forth with excitement. He had not washed up yet and was wearing a flannel dressing gown. Restrade introduced us to him that the owner of the residence was Mr. Horace Hack of the Central News Syndicate.

"It's another case about the bust of Napoleon. Mr. Holmes, you seemed very interested in this last night, but today it has developed quite severely, so I think you might be more interested in it."

"But how serious is it?"

"It is so serious that it is related to human life. Mr. Hack, please tell these two gentlemen in detail?"

The old man in dressing gown turned his head toward us, his face filled with his excessive sad expression.

He said: "This is really bizarre. I have been editing other people's news all my life, but now I am the protagonist of a very good news, but I am confused and unable to say anything. If I come here as a journalist, I can interview myself, and there will be two more columns of reports in the evening newspaper. But now, I am telling different people this important news again and again, but I am unable to make good use of it. Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I have long admired your name. If you can explain this strange thing well, I will be a little reward no matter how many times I tell you."

Sherlock Holmes sat in a chair and listened to him intently.

"The root of the matter seems to be because of the Napoleon half-body statue I bought four months ago. This half-body statue was bought from the Harding Brothers store. It is not valuable and has been kept in this room since then. That shop is the second near Hayer Street Station. Since my job is a news editor, I often don't sleep all night, and today it is the same. At three o'clock in the morning, I was sitting at the desk upstairs, and suddenly a sound came from the downstairs. I listened carefully for a while, but the sound soon disappeared, because

I thought it was a sound outside. Later, about five minutes later, another particularly terrifying scream came. Mr. Holmes, it was the most miserable scream I have ever heard in my life, and I will never forget it in my life. At that time, I was really stunned and at a loss for a minute or two. Later, I rushed downstairs with the fireplace in my hand. When I came to this room, I immediately found that the window was open, and I saw that the half-body statue was gone on the mantel. I really didn't understand why the thief had to steal a plaster statue, which was of no value at all.

"You can also find that no matter who wants to go out of this open window, he only needs to take a big step to the steps in front of the door. This thief must have done this. Then I opened the door and walked out in the dark, but there was a body on the ground that almost tripped me. I rushed into the room, took a lamp, and then I saw clearly the unlucky man lying on the ground-a very large hole in his neck, with a lot of blood next to it. He lay on his back, his knees bent and his mouth wide open, which looked very terrible. I immediately blew the whistle, but I didn't know what happened next, because I fainted. When I woke up, I was already in the hall, and the policeman was by my side."

Sherlock Holmes asked, "Who is that dead body?"

Lestrade said: "There is nothing to prove his identity. You can go to the funeral home to see his body, but so far, we have not found any clues. The victim is not yet thirty years old, has a very tall figure, has a dark skin baked by the sun, and is very strong. He is wearing very worn clothes, but it doesn't feel like a workmanship. There is a half-cornered knife in the pool of blood next to him. I don't know whether this knife is a murder weapon or the victim's own thing. There is nothing else in the victim's pocket of clothes, only an apple, a rope, a map of London worth a shilling and a photo - that's that photo."

You can see at a glance that the photo was taken with a small camera. The person in the photo was very thin, like a monkey, with thick eyebrows, showing a bit cleverness. The lower half of his face was bulging outwards, which was most suitable to describe him as a baboon.

Sherlock Holmes looked at the photo carefully and asked, "Have you found that half-body statue?"

"There was news that came to us before you arrived. The statue was found in the garden of an empty house on Camden Street, but it had been broken into pieces. Now I was thinking of going there. Are you going together?"

"Go, but I want to take a look here first." Sherlock Holmes looked carefully on the carpet and windows. "This person is either quite long legs or very agile. The distance outside the window is quite high from the ground, so it is still difficult to climb onto the windowsill and open the windows, but it is much easier to jump out. Mr. Huck, do you want to go with us to see the smashed statue?"

The journalist was sitting in front of the desk in a decadent state.

He said: "Although I know that this matter has been reported in the first batch of evening newspapers, I should still rack my brains to write something. I believe my luck! You should not forget the collapse of the Duncaster stand, right? At that time, I was the only reporter standing in the stand, but I was stunned and couldn't write a word. My newspaper became the only newspaper that did not report that news. This time I wrote the murder that happened at my house too late."

When we left the house, he had already started writing his news "brush".

The place where the half-body statue was smashed was only a few hundred yards away from the house. At this time, we saw the half-body statue of the French king for the first time, although it made the unknown person endlessly mad and hated. The half-body statue was beaten into pieces and scattered in the grass. Sherlock Holmes picked up a few pieces and looked at them carefully. From his concentrating expression and deep expression, I could see that he had found a clue.

"Did you find anything?" asked Restrade.

Sherlocked her shoulders and said, "The road ahead is still very far, but... but... we have found some clues to be able to act. In the eyes of the strange criminal, a half-body statue with no value is more valuable than a person's life. Secondly, if smashing the statue is his only purpose, but he neither smashed it in that room nor near the house, isn't it a bit weird?"

"Maybe, he accidentally met other people and was panicked for a moment, and he didn't even know what he was doing."

"This possibility is not ruled out, but I would like to remind you specifically about the location of this house. The place where the statue was smashed is in the garden of this house."

Restrade looked around and said, "No one lives in this house, so he knew no one would find him in the garden."

"It's very correct, but there is a living room at the other end of the street. He must have discovered it when he came here. As long as he holds the statue, even if he walks a little forward, it will increase the danger of being seen. This shows why he didn't smash the half-body statue there?"

"I don't know how to explain it," Lestrade said.

Holmes pointed at the street light above his head.

"The reason for this is that he can see everything he does clearly here, but it is absolutely not possible there." The sheriff said: "That's right! That's it. Now I remember that the location of the smashing of the half-body statue of Dr. Barnicott's house is also quite close to the light. Mr. Sherlock Holmes, how should we explain this question?"

"Tell me and write it down in the filing record. Perhaps, we will encounter such situations in the future. Restrade, what do you think we should do next?"

"I think that investigating the identity of the deceased is the most realistic way to clarify the case. This is quite easy. Once we find out his identity and the people who have a relationship with him, we can have a good start and know the purpose of his visit to Peter Street last night, and who was the murderer who met him at Mr. Hack's house and killed him. What do you think?"

"It's true, but this is not how I handle this case."

"Then what's your approach?"

"Oh, it's not necessary to let my thinking affect you. I suggest that we act in our own way. In the process of acting, we can communicate different opinions from each other so that we can complement each other."

"This is a good idea," said Restrade.

"If you go to Peter Street and see Mr. Hack, you tell him on my behalf, I think the man who went to his house last night was a pretty terrible murderer, and he hated Napoleon to the point of madness. This would be beneficial to his writing."

Restrade looked at him with his eyes: "That's not what you really think."

Holmes smiled softly: "No? Maybe not, but I believe Mr. Huck and the subscribers of the Central News Agency will be very interested in this. OK, OK, Watson, we have many things to deal with today. Restrade, I hope I can see you on Baker Street at six o'clock tonight. I will keep this photo found in the pocket of the deceased for a while. If my guess is right, maybe I will ask you to cooperate with me to take some small risks tonight. Goodbye tonight, I wish you peace!"

Sherlock Holmes and I went to Hayes Street, and we stopped in front of the Harding Brothers store. Mr. Huck bought the half-bodied statue here. An old clerk told us that Mr. Harding had not returned until the afternoon. But he had not been here for a long time and he was not sure about the situation here. Disappointment and depression filled Holmes's face.

He said helplessly: "Warson, we won't go everything smoothly. Mr. Harding must not come back until the afternoon, so we will come back in the afternoon. You may have understood that I am about to find out the origins of these half-body statues and see if there is any special reason for their unfortunate experience. Now, we go to Kennington Street to find Mr. Moss Hudson, hoping to get a little clue from him."

We sat in the carriage for an hour and arrived at the art dealer's shop. Mr. Hudson, who was short and small, was very strong, had a flushed face and a little impatient.

He said, "Yes, sir. It was broken on our counter. If our goods can be smashed by some hooligans at will, what's the point of paying taxes? Yes, sir, I sold two statues to Dr. Barnicott. Such a ridiculous thing happened. I think it must be the anarchists. Only those anarchists would do the smashing of statues. These Republicans hate it very much! You ask me where these half-body statues were entered? I don't understand what this has to do with smashing statues. But since you have to figure it out, I'll say to you, my goods were entered from the Gailders Company on Church Street, Stipney District. For the past twenty years, this company has been very famous. I've entered.

How many goods did you have? In fact, only three are two plus one. Dr. Banicot bought two, and the remaining one was broken on my counter in broad daylight. Do you ask me if I have seen this person in the photo? No, I haven't seen it. But I seem to be familiar with him. By the way, he is Bebo. He may be Italian, doing some bits and pieces of work everywhere, and has also done in my store. He knows carving, gilding, can make frames, and can do a lot of bits and pieces. Last week, this guy left me, and since then, I lost contact with him. I don't know where he came from, nor where he went. When he was with me, I was very satisfied with the work he did. He left two days before the statue was broken."

As we left the store, Holmes said: "We only know these clues from Moss Hudson. We know that Beppow has been in the case of Kennington and Consinton, which means that we have not been in vain for the ten-mile carriage. Watson, now, we will go to the Gailders in the Stipney District, where these half-body statues are born. I believe there are some clues to find there."

We rushed past the bustling areas of London, passed by the hotel area, theater area, college area, commercial area and shipping company area, and finally arrived at a town, which was very large, with a population of more than 100,000, located on the banks of the Thames. It was filled with the atmosphere of European wanderers, because of the people who lived in the sub-lent houses. On the wide street where the wealthy merchants in London used to live, we finally found the sculpture factory. There was a very large courtyard surrounded by stone tablets and other items. There was a very large room in the factory, with more than fifty workers busy, some doing carvings, and some making molds. The manager was a German, with golden hair and tall figure. He received us very politely, and he gave a clear answer to any question asked by Sherlock Holmes. He put the account in a clear way.

After checking, I found that there were hundreds of statues of Napoleon made of marble from Diwan. The three statues bought by Mos Hudson a year ago and the three statues bought by Harding brothers were among the hundreds. These six were exactly the same as other statues. He really couldn't figure out why others wanted to break them. He even felt that this was too funny. They were wholesale for six shillings, but the retail price could be sold for twelve shillings, or even more. The statues were made from two molds, the left and right sides of the faces. After they were finished, they combined the two plaster half-face molds into one piece, and they made a complete statue. Often Italians do these things, and the house we just visited was the construction site. After the statue was completed, it was air-dried on the table in the corridor, and after everything was finished, it was packaged. That's all the manager could tell us.

However, when he saw the photo, the manager was extremely excited. He was very angry, his face was flushed, his brows frowned, and his blue eyes were a little shiny.

He shouted loudly, "Oh, this rogue! Yes, I know him very well. Our company has always had a very good reputation. I only came to the police once, which was the trouble of this guy. That happened a year ago. He killed an Italian on the street. After returning here for a while, the police arrived and arrested him from here. Bepp is his name, and I don't know his surname. Such a person with bad character was hired by me, which is considered unlucky. But then again, he is quite good at doing things and is a good assistant."

"What sentence did he sentence?"

"The person who was killed was not dead, so he was sentenced to only two years in prison. Now, I believe he has been released long ago, but he has no face to appear here. He has a cousin here with us. He can definitely tell you where he is."

"No, no," Holmes said loudly, "Don't tell his cousin about this, you can't tell a word. Just help. This matter is very important, and after I investigated it, I felt very serious. When you just flipped the account book, I found that the statues were sold on July 3 last year. Can you tell me when Beber was arrested?"

The manager replied: "I can give you an approximate time by looking through the salary list." After looking through the pages of the salary list, he said: "Yes, May 20th is the last time he paid him a salary."

Holmes said, "Thank you very much. I don't think I need to waste too much time on you, disturb you." Finally, he told the manager not to tell anyone else about what we asked about. Later, we drove west again.
To be continued...