In this installment in the continuation of the classic collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, England's top-notch sleuth is on the go again, with lavish mysteries demanding the master's brilliant powers of deduction.
It was in the spring of the year 1894 that all London was interested, and the fashionable world dismayed, by the murder of the Honourable Ronald Adair under most unusual and inexplicable circumstances.
"Work is the best antidote to sorrow, my dear Watson," said he, "and I have a piece of work for us both to-night which, if we can bring it to a successful conclusion, will in itself justify a man's life on this planet.
I knew not what wild beast we were about to hunt down in the dark jungle of criminal London, but I was well assured, from the bearing of this master huntsman, that the adventure was a most grave one—while the sardonic smile which occasionally broke through his ascetic gloom boded little good for the object of our quest.
Holmes sank back in his chair. “That’s no business of mine,” said he. “Exactly. That’s what I said. But then, when the man commits burglary in order to break images which are not his own, that brings it away from the doctor and on to the policeman.” Holmes sat up again. “Burglary! This is more interesting. Let me hear the details.” Lestrade took out his official notebook and refreshed his memory from its pages. “The first case reported was four days ago,” said he. “It was at the shop of Morse Hudson, who has a place for the sale of pictures and statues in the Kennington Road. The assistant
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