The man in the dressing-gown turned to us. He looked very sad. He said, "It is very strange. All my life I have been collecting other people's news. Now a real piece of news has happened to me, and I am so confused and upset that I don't know what to say. If I was here being a journalist, I would interview myself and write a long report for every evening paper.

Instead, I am giving away an important story for nothing by telling it over and over to many different people, and I can't use it myself. However, I've heard of you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. If you can tell me what is going on, I will think that will pay me for the effort of telling you the story."

Holmes sat down and listened.

"It all seems to be about that bust of Napoleon. I bought it about four months ago for this room. Iit was cheap - on sale at Harding Brothers, who have a shop two doors from the High Street Station. I do a lot of my work at night. Sometimes I write until it is early in the morning. That's what I did today. I was sitting in my den, which is a room at the back of the top of the house. It was about three o'clock in the morning. I was sure that I heard some sounds downstairs. I listened, but I did not hear them again, and I decided that the noise came from outside. Then suddenly, about five minutes later, there came a most horrible shout. It was a very terrible sound, Mr. Holmes. It will be in my ears for the rest of my life."