"Well, well, we can't expect to win every time, Watson," Holmes said at last. "Iif Mr. Harding will not be here until the afternoon, we must come back then. As you have probably guessed, I'm trying to find out where each of these busts came from. It might be that when we know where the busts are from, we will understand what happened to them. Let go to Mr. Morse Hudson, of the Kennington Road, and see if he can help us with our problem."

We drove for an an hour to the picture-seller's shop. The owner was a small, stout man with a red face, and he was rather bad-tempered.

"Yes, sir. The bust was broken right here on the counter, sir," he said. " I don't know why we pay our taxes, when any vandal can come in and break our property. Yes, sir, I sold Dr. Barnicot his two statues. What happened is disgraceful, sir! It was terrorism, that's what I think. No-one but terrorists would go about breaking statues. Communists - that's what I call them."

Who did I get the statues from? I don't understand why that is important. Well, if you really want to know, I got them from Gelder & Co., in Church Street, Stepney in London. They are well-known in this business, and have been around for twenty years. How many statues did I have? Three two of Dr. Barnicot's, and one smashed in broad daylight, right here on my own counter. Do I know that photograph? No, I don't. Wait, yes, I do. It's Beppo. He was an Italian who did small jobs and who made himself useful in the shop. He could carve a bit, and paint and so on. He left me last week, and haven't heard about him since. No, I don't know where he came, and I don't know where he went. I had no problems with him while he was here. He had already been gone for two days before the bust was smashed."