1 The Statue Smasher

The sIX Napoleons.

Chapter 1 The Statue Smasher Mr. Lestrade of London's Metropolitan Police was a frequent caller at 221B Baker Street, the home I shared with my friend, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes. These visits were welcomed by Holmes because Lestrade would fill him in on all the latest news from the world of crime. In return, Holmes might feed Lestrade some helpful hints and suggestions for whatever case was currently occupying his attention. On one particular evening in June 1900, Lestrade seemed almost embarrassed when

Holmes asked him what he was working on. "It's such an absurd business that I hesitate to bother you about it," he said. "On the other hand, although it's trivial, it's also strange, and I know you have a taste for the unusual. In fact, it might fall as much in Dr. Watson's field of interest as our own." I looked up at the mention of my name. "Is it about disease, then?" I asked. "Disease of the mind, maybe," said Lestrade, "for surely only a madman could have such a hatred of Napoleon that he would want to smash any statue of him he can lay his hands on." "You mean Napoleon Bonaparte, the former emperor of France?" I exclaimed. "The very one," said Lestrade. "It's become a police matter because this man isn't smashing his own statues of the French emperor—he's committing burglary in order to destroy those belonging to other people." "This does sound intriguing, Lestrade," said Holmes. "Please give me details."

Lestrade took out a notebook and refreshed his memory from its pages. "The first case was reported four days ago," he said. "It took place at Harrison's Art and Antiques, a shop on Kennington Road. The assistant on duty went into the back office for a moment when he heard a crash from the main shop. Hurrying back in, he found a plaster bust of Napoleon, which had been standing on the counter, lying in fragments on the floor. He rushed into the street but saw no sign of the culprit. "The bust was only worth a few shillings, and it seemed like one of those random acts of vandalism that happen from time to time and are not worth investigating. The second case,

however, was more serious and, in its way, peculiar. It occurred only last night. "Just a short distance from the shop I just mentioned lives a doctor by the name of Barnicot. This man is an enthusiastic admirer of Napoleon, and his house is full of books and pictures of the French emperor. Some time ago, he purchased two duplicate plaster busts of Napoleon from Harrison's Art and Antiques. One of these he placed in the hall of his house, and the other on the mantelpiece of his surgery in Lower Brixton. "This morning, Dr. Barnicot awoke to discover his house had been burgled in the night, but nothing had been taken save the Napoleon. It

had been carried out into the garden and dashed against the wall, beneath which he found its splintered remains." Holmes rubbed his hands with delight. "This is fascinating," he murmured. "You've not heard the end yet," said Lestrade. "At midday, Dr. Barnicot arrived at his surgery, and you can imagine his amazement when he found the window open and broken pieces of the second Napoleon bust strewn all over the room. In neither case could we find any clues as to the person who carried out these bizarre crimes. And those, Mr. Holmes, are the facts of the case." "And very singular facts they are, too," said Holmes. "Tell me, were Dr. Barnicot's busts