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was no very unusual thing for Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, to look in upon
us of an evening, and his visits were welcome to Sherlock Holmes, for they enabled
him to keep in touch with all that was going on at the police headquarters. In
return for the news which Lestrade would bring, Holmes was always ready to listen
with attention to the details of any case upon which the detective was engaged,
and was able occasionally without any active interference, to give some hint or
suggestion drawn from his own vast knowledge and experience. On
this particular evening, Lestrade had spoken of the weather and the newspapers.
Then he had fallen silent, puffing thoughtfully at his cigar. Holmes looked keenly
at him. "Anything
remarkable on hand?" he asked.
"Oh, no, Mr. Holmes -- nothing
very particular."
"Then tell me about it."
Lestrade
laughed.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, there is no use denying that there is
something on my mind. And yet it is such an absurd business, that I hesitated
to bother you about it. On the other hand, although it is trivial, it is undoubtedly
queer, and I know that you have a taste for all that is out of the common. But,
in my opinion, it comes more in Dr. Watson's line than ours."
"Disease?"
said I.
"Madness, anyhow. And a queer madness, too. You wouldn't
think there was anyone living at this time of day who had such a hatred of Napoleon
the First that he would break any image of him that he could see."
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