By the time we met again next evening, Lestrade had discovered a lot about our prisoner. It appeared that his name was Beppo,though no-one knew of a second name for him. He was a well-known ne'er-do-well among the Italians in London. He had once been a good sculptor and had earned an honest living. Then he had taken to evil ways and had twice already been in prison. Once was for a petty theft and the second time, as we had already heard, was for stabbing a fellow-countryman. He could talk English perfectly well.

No-one knew why he had been destroying the busts, and he refused to answer any questions about it. However the police had discovered that Beppo himself might have made these same busts, because that had been his job at the company of Gelder and Co. We already knew most of this information, but Holmes listened with polite attention. But I knew Holmes very well, and could clearly see that his thoughts were elsewhere. I noticed a mixture of mingled uneasiness and expectation beneath that mask which he was in the habit of wearing.

At last he started in his chair and his eyes brightened. There had been a ring at the bell. A minute later we heard steps upon the stairs, and an elderly, red-faced man with grey side-whiskers was ushered in. In his right hand he carried an old-fashioned bag, which he placed upon the table.