“We have an inspector who makes a specialty of Saffron Hilland the Italian Quarter. Well, this dead man had some Catholicemblem round his neck, and that, along with his colour, mademe think he was from the South. Inspector Hill knew him themoment he caught sight of him. His name is Pietro Venucci, fromNaples, and he is one of the greatest cut-throats in London. He isconnected with the Mafia, which, as you know, is a secret politicalsociety, enforcing its decrees by murder. Now, you see how theaffair begins to clear up. The other fellow is probably an Italianalso, and a member of the Mafia. He has broken the rules in somefashion. Pietro is set upon his track. Probably the photograph wefound in his pocket is the man himself, so that he may not knifethe wrong person. He dogs the fellow, he sees him enter a house,he waits outside for him, and in the scuffle he receives his owndeath-wound. How is that, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?”
Holmes clapped his hands approvingly.
“Excellent, Lestrade, excellent!” he cried. “But I didn’t quitefollow your explanation of the destruction of the busts.”
“The busts! You never can get those busts out of your head.
After all, that is nothing; petty larceny, six months at the most. Itis the murder that we are really investigating, and I tell you that Iam gathering all the threads into my hands.”
“And the next stage?”
“Is a very simple one. I shall go down with Hill to the ItalianQuarter, find the man whose photograph we have got, and arrest himon the charge of murder. Will you come with us?”
“I think not. I fancy we can attain our end in a simpler way. I can’tsay for certain, because it all depends—well, it all depends upon a factorwhich is completely outside our control. But I have great hopes—infact, the betting is exactly two to one—that if you will come with usto-night I shall be able to help you to lay him by the heels.”
“In the Italian Quarter?”
“No, I fancy Chiswick is an address which is more likely to findhim. If you will come with me to Chiswick to-night, Lestrade, I’llpromise to go to the Italian Quarter with you to-morrow, and noharm will be done by the delay. And now I think that a few hours’
sleep would do us all good, for I do not propose to leave beforeeleven o’clock, and it is unlikely that we shall be back beforemorning. You’ll dine with us, Lestrade, and then you are welcometo the sofa until it is time for us to start. In the meantime, Watson,I should be glad if you would ring for an express messenger, for Ihave a letter to send and it is important that it should go at once.”
Holmes spent the evening in rummaging among the files of theold daily papers with which one of our lumber-rooms was packed.
When at last he descended, it was with triumph in his eyes, buthe said nothing to either of us as to the result of his researches.
For my own part, I had followed step by step the methods bywhich he had traced the various windings of this complex case,and, though I could not yet perceive the goal which we wouldreach, I understood clearly that Holmes expected this grotesquecriminal to make an attempt upon the two remaining busts, oneof which, I remembered, was at Chiswick. No doubt the object ofour journey was to catch him in the very act, and I could not butadmire the cunning with which my friend had inserted a wrongclue in the evening paper, so as to give the fellow the idea thathe could continue his scheme with impunity. I was not surprisedwhen Holmes suggested that I should take my revolver with me.
He had himself picked up the loaded hunting-crop, which was hisfavourite weapon.
A four-wheeler was at the door at eleven, and in it we drove to aspot at the other side of Hammersmith Bridge. Here the cabmanwas directed to wait. A short walk brought us to a secluded roadfringed with pleasant houses, each standing in its own grounds. Inthe light of a street lamp we read “Laburnum Villa” upon the gatepostof one of them. The occupants had evidently retired to rest,for all was dark save for a fanlight over the hall door, which sheda single blurred circle on to the garden path. The wooden fencewhich separated the grounds from the road threw a dense blackshadow upon the inner side, and here it was that we crouched.
“I fear that you’ll have a long wait,” Holmes whispered. “Wemay thank our stars that it is not raining. I don’t think we caneven venture to smoke to pass the time. However, it’s a two to onechance that we get something to pay us for our trouble.”
It proved, however, that our vigil was not to be so long asHolmes had led us to fear, and it ended in a very sudden andsingular fashion. In an instant, without the least sound to warn usof his coming, the garden gate swung open, and a lithe, dark figure,as swift and active as an ape, rushed up the garden path. We sawit whisk past the light thrown from over the door and disappearagainst the black shadow of the house. There was a long pause,during which we held our breath, and then a very gentle creakingsound came to our ears. The window was being opened. The noiseceased, and again there was a long silence. The fellow was makinghis way into the house. We saw the sudden flash of a dark lanterninside the room. What he sought was evidently not there, foragain we saw the flash through another blind, and then throughanother.
“Let us get to the open window. We will nab him as he climbsout,” Lestrade whispered.
But before we could move, the man had emerged again. Ashe came out into the glimmering patch of light, we saw that hecarried something white under his arm. He looked stealthily allround him. The silence of the deserted street reassured him.
