"I don't know - it could be anything. But I think it might be the next part of the story of the statues. If it is, then our friend the statue breaker has begun to work in another quarter of London. There's coffee on the table, Watson, and I have a cab waiting at the door."
Half an hour later we were in Pitt Street. This was a quiet little street just beside one of the busiest roads in London. No. 131 was one of a row of houses.
All these houses were respectable and unromantic homes. As we drove up, we found a crowd of curious people in front of the house. Holmes whistled. "My word! We will find that there has been at least an attempted murder. Nothing less important will make a London message-boy stop work to stare. From the way he is stretching his neck to see things, something very bad has happened here. What's this, Watson? The top steps have been washed and the other steps are dry. We will find footsteps, anyhow! Well, well, there's Lestrade at the front window, and we shall soon know what is going on."
Lestrade greeted us, looking very serious. We went into a sitting-room, where a very untidy and upset old man, was walking around the room in his dressing gown. Lestrade told us he was the owner of the house - Mr. Horace Harker, a journalist.
"It's about the Napoleons again," said Lestrade. "You seemed interested last night, Mr. Holmes, so I thought perhaps you would like to be here, because things have become more serious. It has turned into murder. Mr. Harker, will you tell these people exactly what happened?"
