If I had come in here as a
journalist I should have interviewed myself and had two columns
in every evening paper. As it is I am giving away valuable copy
by telling my story over and over to a string of different people,
and I can make no use of it myself. However, I've heard your name,
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and if you'll only explain this queer business
I shall be paid for my trouble in telling you the story."
Holmes sat down and listened.
"It all seems to centre round that bust of Napoleon which I
bought for this very room about four months ago. I picked it up
cheap from Harding Brothers, two doors from the High Street
Station. A great deal of my journalistic work is done at night,
and I often write until the early morning. So it was to-day.
I was sitting in my den, which is at the back of the top of the
house, about three o'clock, when I was convinced that I heard
some sounds downstairs. I listened, but they were not repeated,
and I concluded that they came from outside. Then suddenly,
about five minutes later, there came a most horrible yell -- the
most dreadful sound, Mr. Holmes, that ever I heard.
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