As we turned him over I saw a hideous,
sallow face, with writhing, furious features, glaring up at us,
and I knew that it was indeed the man of the photograph whom we
had secured.
But it was not our prisoner to whom Holmes was giving his
attention. Squatted on the doorstep, he was engaged in most
carefully examining that which the man had brought from the
house. It was a bust of Napoleon like the one which we had
seen that morning, and it had been broken into similar
fragments. Carefully Holmes held each separate shard to the
light, but in no way did it differ from any other shattered
piece of plaster. He had just completed his examination when
the hall lights flew up, the door opened, and the owner of the
house, a jovial, rotund figure in shirt and trousers, presented
himself.
"Mr. Josiah Brown, I suppose?" said Holmes.
"Yes, sir; and you, no doubt, are Mr. Sherlock Holmes? I had
the note which you sent by the express messenger, and I did
exactly what you told me. We locked every door on the inside
and awaited developments. Well, I'm very glad to see that you
have got the rascal. I hope, gentlemen, that you will come in
and have some refreshment.
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