A young assistant informed us that Mr. Harding
would be absent until after noon, and that he was himself a
newcomer who could give us no information. Holmes's face
showed his disappointment and annoyance.
"Well, well, we can't expect to have it all our own way,
Watson," he said, at last. "We must come back in the afternoon
if Mr. Harding will not be here until then. I am, as you have
no doubt surmised, endeavouring to trace these busts to their
source, in order to find if there is not something peculiar
which may account for their remarkable fate. Let us make for
Mr. Morse Hudson, of the Kennington Road, and see if he can
throw any light upon the problem."
A drive of an hour brought us to the picture-dealer's
establishment. He was a small, stout man with a red face
and a peppery manner.
"Yes, sir. On my very counter, sir," said he. "What we pay
rates and taxes for I don't know, when any ruffian can come in
and break one's goods. Yes, sir, it was I who sold Dr. Barnicot
his two statues. Disgraceful, sir! A Nihilist plot, that's
what I make it. No one but an Anarchist would go about breaking
statues.
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