The Six Napoleons

by Arthur Conan Doyle

(Adapted book. Pre-Intermediate level)

Mr Lestrade, a detective from Scotland Yard, often visited my friend Sherlock Holmes and me in the evening. Holmes enjoyed talking to Lestrade because he learned useful facts about Scotland Yard - Londons most important police station. Lestrade liked these visits too, because Holmes was a good detective. Holmes always listened carefully if Lestrade had a difficult case. He often helped Lestrade.

On one of these evening visits, Lestrade talked about the weather and other uninteresting things for a long time. Then he stopped talking and sat quietly. Holmes was interested in his silence.

‘Have you got a good case for me today?’ he asked.

‘Oh, nothing important, Mr Holmes,’ said the detective. Holmes laughed. ‘Please tell me about it,’ he said.

‘Well, Mr Holmes, there is something, but it doesn’t seem very important. I don’t want to trouble you with it. I know you like difficult problems. But I think that this will perhaps interest Dr Watson more than you.'

I was surprised when Lestrade said this. I like helping Sherlock Holmes with his detective work, but I am really a doctor, not a detective. So I said, ‘What’s the matter? Is somebody ill?’

‘Yes, I think so. I think that somebody is very ill,’ was Lestrade’s answer. ‘I think that he is completely mad! Someone is stealing cheap busts of Napoleon Bonaparte and breaking them. I think he hates Napoleon. Four days ago, he went into a shop in Kennington Road. The owner’s name is Morse Hudson and he sells pictures and other works of art. When the shop assistant was busy, the madman ran in. He picked up a bust of Napoleon, broke it into pieces and then ran away. Nobody saw his face.’

‘Why are you so interested in this?’ said Holmes.

‘Because he’s done it again,’ replied Lestrade. ‘Yesterday he got into the house of a doctor - Dr Barnicott. This doctor is very interested in Napoleon. He lives near Morse Hudson’s shop, and he bought two busts there. He kept one bust at home and the other in his office, two miles away. The thief took the bust from his home and broke it against the garden wall. Dr Barnicott found it when he got up in the morning. He then went to his office - at about twelve o’clock. To his surprise, the second bust was broken too. The pieces were all over the room.’

‘This is more interesting,’ said Holmes. ‘Now please tell me, were these three busts exactly the same?’

‘Yes, they were.’

‘Well,’ said Holmes, ‘why did the man choose these three busts? I’m sure that there are hundreds of other busts in London. I think the thief was only interested in the busts, not in Napoleon.’

‘That’s possible,’ Lestrade replied, ‘but can we be sure? There is no other shop that sells busts in that part of London. Perhaps the madman lives in that area and began with the nearest busts. What do you think, Dr Watson? Can someone hate Napoleon so much?’

‘Yes, it’s possible,’ I said, and I told them some interesting examples from the history of medicine. ‘But,’ I said, ‘how did this madman know where these three busts were?’

‘It’s very interesting,’ said Sherlock Holmes. ‘Please tell us, Mr Lestrade, if you learn more.’

* * *

Next morning I was dressing when Holmes came into my room. ‘Lestrade wants to see us immediately,’ he said. ‘He’s at a house in Kensington.’

I quickly finished dressing. We had a cup of coffee, then we went to Kensington.

The house was in a quiet street, but it was not far from the busy centre of London. That morning there was a large crowd of people standing outside.

Lestrade was waiting for us. He was looking very serious. I noticed that there was a lot of blood outside the front door of the house.

Lestrade told us to come inside. There we met Horace Harker, the man who lived there. He worked for a newspaper, and today he had a good story. But he could not write about it; he was too frightened.

‘Please tell us what you know, Mr Harker,’ said Lestrade.

‘I was woken by a loud cry at about three o’clock this morning,’ he said. ‘I was very frightened, but I went downstairs. There was nobody in the room, but the window was open and my bust of Napoleon was not there. So I opened the front door to call a policeman. I found a dead man lying there. He was covered in blood - I felt very sick.’

‘Who is the dead man?’ asked Holmes.

‘We don’t know,’ Lestrade answered. ‘He had a cheap street map of London and a photograph of a very ugly man in his pockets. There was a small knife near him. But I don’t know if he was killed with that knife.’

‘What about the bust of Napoleon? ’ asked Holmes.

‘We found it quite near here, in the garden of an empty house,’ said Lestrade. ‘It was broken, like the others.’

Lestrade took us to look at the broken bust. Mr Harker stayed at home. He was beginning to feel better and he wanted to write the story for his newspaper.

* * *

We soon arrived at the empty house. The pieces of the bust were lying in the grass by the garden wall. Holmes picked up some pieces and looked at them carefully.

‘What do you think?’ said Lestrade.

Holmes looked at him. ‘There’s a lot more work for us to do,’ he said. ‘But there are some interesting questions here that we must think about. For example, why did a man kill someone for a cheap bust like this? And if he only wanted to break the bust, why didn’t he break it at Mr Harker’s house? Why did he take it away with him? ’

‘Maybe he carried it away because he didn’t want Mr Harker to hear him,’ said Lestrade.

‘Perhaps that’s the reason,’ said Holmes. ‘But why did he bring it to this house and not another one?’

‘Because this house was empty,’ replied Lestrade.

‘But there’s another empty house in this road, nearer to Mr Harker’s house. Why didn’t he break it there?’

‘I really don’t know,’ replied Lestrade.

Holmes pointed to the street light above our heads. ‘He could see what he was doing here. The garden of the other house was too dark.’

‘That’s true!’ said the detective. Then he asked, ‘But how does this help us, Mr Holmes?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ my friend answered, ‘but I’m going to think about it.What are you going to do next, Mr Lestrade?’

‘I want to find out who the dead man was. I need to know why he was in Kensington last night. Then I’ll know who killed him outside Mr Harker’s house. Isn’t that a good idea?’

‘Perhaps,’ replied Sherlock Holmes. ‘But it isn’t my way.’

‘So what are you going to do?’ asked Lestrade.

‘I’ll do things in my way and you can do things in your way,’ said Sherlock Holmes. ‘Then we can talk about the case together later.’

Then he added something surprising. ‘If you see Mr Harker, please tell him this. I’m sure that a dangerous, Napoleon-hating madman was in his house last night.’

Lestrade was surprised. ‘Do you really think that’s true?’ Holmes laughed. ‘Not really,’ he said, ‘but I think the readers of Mr Harker’s newspaper will be interested. We must go now, but please visit us in our rooms in Baker Street at six o’clock this evening. Until then, can I keep the photograph that the dead man had with him? After you come to Baker Street, you must come out somewhere with me. Goodbye and good luck!’

* * *

Mr Harker’s bust was from Harding Brothers’ shop in the High Street, so Sherlock Holmes and I walked there together. Mr Harding was not there.

Holmes was not pleased by this. ‘We’ll come back in the afternoon,’ he said to Mr Hardings assistant. ‘And now, Watson, let’s visit Mr Morse Hudson’s shop. Dr Barnicott bought his busts there.’

Morse Hudson was very angry about the broken busts, but he answered all Holmes’s questions. ‘The busts were made by Gelder and Company, in another part of London,’ he told us. ‘I can’t give you more help than that.’ But when Holmes showed him the photograph from the dead man’s pocket, he cried, ‘That’s Beppo! ’

‘Who’s Beppo?’ asked Holmes.

‘He’s an Italian. He worked in my shop for a time - a useful man - but he left last week. I don’t know where he went. He left two days before the bust was broken.’

We thanked Morse Hudson and left his shop. Holmes was quite pleased with what the shopkeeper told us. He decided next to visit Gelder and Company, the factory where the busts were made.

We passed through many parts of London, rich places and poor places, before we came to Stepney. Stepney was a rich place in the past, but now poor working people lived there. Many of them came from other countries.

We soon found Gelder and Company. We spoke to a German.

’In the past we made hundreds of busts,’ he told us, ‘but this year we only made six. Three were sold to Morse Hudson and three to Harding. The busts were cheaply made, usually by Italian workers.’ When Holmes showed him the photograph of the ugly Italian, he became angry.

‘That’s a very bad man,’ he said. ‘His name is Beppo and he worked here for me. But that was more than a year ago.’

‘Why did he leave?’ Holmes asked.

‘He tried to kill another Italian with a knife, in the street,’ replied the German. ‘The police followed him here and caught him. The other Italian didn’t die, so Beppo was only sent to prison for a year. One of his friends works here now. Do you want to speak to him?’

‘No, no!’ said Holmes. ‘Please don’t tell him anything - this is very important.’

‘All right,’ the man said.

‘I have one more question,’ said Holmes. ‘It says here, in your book, that you sold the busts on 3rd June last year. When did the police come for Beppo? Can you remember?’

‘Yes, I can. I paid Beppo for the last time on 20th May last year, and it was very soon after that.’

‘You’ve helped me a lot,’ said Holmes. ‘I must go now. Remember, don’t say anything to Beppo’s friend.’

It was late in the afternoon and we were hungry. So we stopped to have some food in a restaurant. Holmes bought a newspaper. In it was an exciting story by Mr Harker about the madman who hated Napoleon. Most of the story was not true, but Holmes laughed a lot. He thought that it was a good joke. ‘This is very helpful, Watson,’ he said.

I did not really understand what he meant. But I laughed too at the silly story.

After our meal, we went to Harding Brothers. Mr Harding was a busy little man, and he answered our questions quickly and clearly. His three busts were all sold: one to Mr Harker of Kensington, one to a Mr Josiah Brown of Chiswick, and the third to a Mr Sandeford. Mr Sandeford lived outside London, in Reading.

Holmes seemed very interested in these facts and thanked Mr Harding. It was late, so we hurried back to Baker Street. We had to meet Lestrade.

* * *

Lestrade was waiting for us when we arrived. He was very pleased with himself.

‘Have you found out anything, Mr Holmes?’ he asked.

‘Well, we know a lot about the busts now,’ replied Holmes.

‘The busts!’ said Lestrade, and laughed. ‘I know you’re a clever detective, Mr Holmes. But I think I’ve found out something more important than that!’

‘What have you discovered?’

‘I now know who the dead man was. And I think I’ve found the motive for his murder,’ was Lestrade s reply.

‘Very good, Mr Lestrade.’ Holmes smiled and waited.

Lestrade continued. ‘We have a detective at Scotland Yard who knows many of the Italians in London. He knew this man well. His name was Pietro Venucci - a thief and a very dangerous man. Venucci worked for the Mafia. He punished people who broke the rules of the Mafia. That was his job. Usually he killed them. I think the man in the photograph broke the rules. Venucci was following him. They had a fight and Venucci was killed.’

Holmes smiled and said, ‘Very good, Mr Lestrade, very good. But I still don’t understand why the busts were broken.’

Lestrade almost shouted at Holmes, ‘Those busts aren’t important! Can’t you forget them, Mr Holmes? A man will only go to prison for six months for breaking busts. Pietro Venucci is dead. That’s what interests me.’

‘I see,’ said Holmes quietly. ‘What are you going to do next, Mr Lestrade?’

‘I’m going to go to the area of London where the Italians live. I want to find the man in the photograph. Do you want to come with me?’

Holmes did not seem very interested. ‘No, thank you. I think that we can find him more easily in another place tonight.’

‘Really! Where?’

‘At an address in Chiswick. If you come with me tonight, I will go with you tomorrow,’ said Holmes.

Lestrade was surprised, but he agreed. The three of us had an early dinner together. Then Holmes told Lestrade and me to rest until eleven o’clock.

Holmes did not rest. He spent the time in his room looking at some old newspapers. He was, I thought, probably looking for some facts about Venucci or Beppo.

* * *

Lestrade and I woke up at half past ten. Holmes was waiting for us. He told me to bring my gun. I noticed that he took his favourite strong walking stick with him.

We quickly drove to Chiswick, and Holmes took us to a large house in a dark street. The house, too, was dark and quiet. The people inside were probably already asleep in bed.

‘I’m glad that it’s not raining,’ said Holmes quietly. ‘It’s possible that we’ll have to wait a long time. We mustn’t smoke and we must be very quiet. I hope we’re going to discover something tonight.’

We only had to wait for five minutes. The garden gate suddenly opened, and a man ran quickly down the garden path towards the house.

We could not see his face. It was too dark and he was moving too quickly. He disappeared into the darkness and we waited in silence.

Next, we heard the sound of a window opening very slowly.

Then we saw a small light inside the front room of the house.

‘Let’s go to the open window. Then we can catch him as he comes out,’ said Lestrade.

But before we moved, the man came outside again. He was carrying something. He looked around him. He saw that nobody was watching him. Then there was a sudden crash as he broke the thing against the wall.

We ran forward. Holmes jumped on his back and the man fell heavily to the ground. Lestrade and I quickly went to help Holmes. I had my gun ready. Soon the man was our prisoner.

He looked up at us. His face was very ugly. We could see that he was surprised and angry. I realized immediately that he was the man in the photograph.

While we were holding the man on the ground. Holmes was looking at the broken pieces of another bust of Napoleon. He lifted up each piece and looked at it in the light.

Somebody turned on the lights in the house. Then a short fat man in a shirt and trousers came out towards Holmes.

‘You’re Mr Sherlock Holmes, aren’t you?’ he asked, with a smile on his face.

‘That’s correct,’ said Holmes. ‘And you are Mr Josiah Brown.’

‘Yes, sir. We did what you told us. We locked the doors to the house and turned off the lights. Then we waited very quietly. You’ve done very well. Please come inside and have some food and drink.’

Holmes thanked Mr Brown, but Lestrade wanted to take the man away. So we all drove to Scotland Yard. The thief said nothing, but he looked at us all the time. His ugly white face was like an animal’s.

When we arrived at Scotland Yard, the man was searched. He had nothing with him except a long knife with dry blood on it and a little money.

As we were leaving, Lestrade said, ‘Well, Mr Holmes, I must thank you for all your help. My ideas were correct - don’t you agree?’ Holmes smiled and said, ‘It’s a little late at night now for me to explain. But I think the business of the busts is very important. It’s much more important than you think. Can you come and see me again at six o’clock tomorrow evening?’

‘Of course,’ said Lestrade. ‘I’m always happy to visit you. I’ll be pleased to come.’

As we were going home, Holmes said to me, ‘Lestrade is a good detective, but he doesn’t understand everything about this case. I think this is a very unusual case, Watson.’

‘Really?’ I said. ‘Is there more to explain?’

‘The busts, Watson. I think they’re the most important part of this case.’

* * *

At six o’clock the next evening, Lestrade came to Baker Street to see us. He now knew more about Beppo. The Italian was a well-known thief. He spent time in prison after he knifed a man. We already knew that. Beppo was, Lestrade said, very good at making busts and other works of art. It was possible that Beppo made the busts of Napoleon at Gelder and Company.

Holmes listened to Lestrade's words with a smile on his face. But I could see that he really wanted to tell Lestrade something. I was sure that it was something very surprising.

There was a knock on the door and the servant brought an old man into the room. He had a red face and he was carrying a large bag. He put the bag on the table.

‘Is Mr Sherlock Holmes here?’ he asked.

Holmes smiled and said, ‘I’m Sherlock Holmes. And I think that you’re Mr Sandeford of Reading. I’m pleased to meet you. This is my friend Dr Watson, and this is Mr Lestrade from Scotland Yard.’

We both said hello to Mr Sandeford.

‘I have the bust of Napoleon for you,’ he told Holmes.

He also had a letter. ‘Mr Holmes sent me this letter yesterday,’ he said to Lestrade and me. He read it to us.

Dear Mr Sandeford,

I know from Mr Harding that you bought the last bust of Napoleon in his shop. I want that bust very much and I will pay ten pounds for it. Please bring it to my rooms in Baker Street, London, tomorrow at half past six.

Sherlock Holmes

Then he said to Holmes, ‘Do you know how much I paid for the bust in this bag?’

‘No, I don’t,’ said Holmes.

‘Well, I’m not a thief, Mr Holmes. You should know that I only paid one pound for it. If you don’t want to buy it now, I’ll understand.’

‘No,’ said Holmes. ‘I still want the bust. Here’s ten pounds.’ He gave the money to Mr Sandeford.

‘Thank you very much,’ said Mr Sandeford.

He took the money and opened the bag. Inside was an ordinary white bust of Napoleon, just like the others.

Holmes said, ‘Thank you, Mr Sandeford. Now, before you go, I want you to sign this piece of paper. It says that you’ve sold the bust to me for ten pounds.’

‘Of course,’ said Mr Sandeford. He signed the note and left.

Holmes watched Mr Sandeford leave. Then he took a clean white cloth from a cupboard and put it on the table. Lestrade and I watched him carefully. He put the bust carefully on the cloth. Then he took his stick and hit the bust hard. It broke into small pieces.

Holmes shouted with excitement and picked up something small and black from the cloth. Lestrade and I were silent.

‘This is the Black Pearl of the Borgias!’ said Holmes.

We were both very surprised.

‘Really, Holmes?’ I cried, ‘How did you know that it was there?’

‘It’s impossible,’ said Lestrade quietly.

Holmes explained. ‘This is the most famous pearl in the world. It was stolen from the hotel room of the Princess of Colonna on 22nd May last year. I’m sure that you remember that, Mr Lestrade?’

‘Yes, I do,’ replied Lestrade.

‘Well,’ Holmes continued, ‘you will also remember where the hotel was. The princess was staying in the same part of London as Gelder and Company. The police thought that the thief was an Italian servant in the hotel, Lucretia Venucci. But they never proved it. I think that her brother, Pietro, was killed two nights ago.

‘When I looked at my old newspapers, I discovered something. Beppo was caught only two days after the pearl was stolen. The busts were made in those two days. Perhaps the Venuccis stole the pearl from the hotel, and Beppo stole it from them. I don’t know exactly, but it doesn’t matter.

‘I am sure now that Beppo had the pearl with him on the night of his street fight. He ran away, and the police followed him. Beppo ran to Gelder’s and wanted to hide the pearl - but where? He didn’t have much time. He saw the new white busts of Napoleon drying on the table. They were still soft, so he pushed the pearl into one of them. Then he covered the hole. It was the perfect place to hide the pearl.

‘Because of the street fight, Beppo was sent to prison for a year. During that time, the six busts were sold. But we know that Beppo’s friend still worked at Gelder’s. I think that Beppo asked him to find the names of the buyers of the busts. So when Beppo came out of prison, he started looking for the bust with the pearl in it.

‘He got a job with Morse Hudson. There, he learned where the first three busts were. Then he left the job, returned and broke the first bust. Next, he broke Dr Barnicott’s busts. But he didn’t find what he was looking for. The other three busts were sold to Mr Harding’s shop. Beppo found out who had them. I’m not sure how he did that. Perhaps an Italian friend was working there.

‘At the same time, Venucci knew that Beppo was out of prison. He wanted to find him. He was sure that Beppo knew the pearl’s hiding place. Venucci was following Beppo when he went to Mr Harker’s house in Kensington. They fought, and Beppo killedVenucci.’

‘But,’ I asked, ‘if Venucci knew Beppo well, why did he carry his photograph?’

‘To show to other people,’ replied Holmes. ‘Of course,’ he continued, ‘I wasn’t sure that Beppo didn’t find the pearl in Mr Harker’s bust. But if he didn’t, there were only two more busts. One was in Chiswick and the other one was in Reading.

Chiswick is much nearer than Reading, so I told Josiah Brown and his family to be ready.

‘We were lucky. Beppo went to Mr Brown’s house first, and we caught him. I knew then that the pearl was in Mr Sandeford's bust.’

‘Mr Harkers newspaper report helped us. His story made Beppo very happy. The police seemed to have the wrong idea - they were looking for a Napoleon-hating madman. He didn’t think that anyone knew the true secret of the busts. But when I heard the name Venucci, I immediately thought of the missing Black Pearl.’

‘Mr Holmes,’ said Lestrade, ‘I’ve seen your work on many cases in the past, but this is one of the best. I’m sure that my friends at Scotland Yard will be very interested in the case. They will also be interested in the way that you’ve solved it. Can you come and meet them tomorrow? They will be very pleased to talk to you.’

‘I shall be happy to come,’ said Holmes. ‘Thank you.’

‘Thank you, Mr Holmes,’ said Lestrade. ‘You’ve helped me to understand this case, and you’ve found the famous Black Pearl for me.’

Holmes smiled at the police detective. He didn’t know what to say. Then suddenly his face changed.

Well, Watson,’ he said, ‘we have to do some work now. This is not our only case! Goodbye, Lestrade. If you have any more little cases for me, please tell me. I’ll be happy to help you if I can.’

- THE END -

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