Holmes spent the evening in rummaging among the files of the old daily papers with which one of our lumber-rooms was packed.  When at last he descended, it was with triumph in his eyes, but he said nothing to either of us as to the result of his researches.  For my own part, I had followed step by step the methods by which he had traced the various windings of this complex case, and, though I could not yet perceive the goal which we would reach, I understood clearly that Holmes expected this grotesque criminal to make an attempt upon the two remaining busts, one of which, I remembered, was at Chiswick.  No doubt the object of our journey was to catch him in the very act, and I could not but admire the cunning with which my friend had inserted a wrong clue in the evening paper, so as to give the fellow the idea that he could continue his scheme with impunity.  I was not surprised when Holmes suggested that I should take my revolver with me.  He had himself picked up the loaded hunting-crop, which was his favourite weapon.

A four-wheeler was at the door at eleven, and in it we drove to a spot at the other side of Hammersmith Bridge.  Here the cabman was directed to wait.  A short walk brought us to a secluded road fringed with pleasant houses, each standing in its own grounds.  In the light of a street lamp we read “Laburnum Villa” upon the gate-post of one of them.  The occupants had evidently retired to rest, for all was dark save for a fanlight over the hall door, which shed a single blurred circle on to the garden path.  The wooden fence which separated the grounds from the road threw a dense black shadow upon the inner side, and here it was that we crouched.

“I fear that you’ll have a long wait,” Holmes whispered.  “We may thank our stars that it is not raining.  I don’t think we can even venture to smoke to pass the time.  However, it’s a two to one chance that we get something to pay us for our trouble.”

It proved, however, that our vigil was not to be so long as Holmes had led us to fear, and it ended in a very sudden and singular fashion.  In an instant, without the least sound to warn us of his coming, the garden gate swung open, and a lithe, dark figure, as swift and active as an ape, rushed up the garden path.  We saw it whisk past the light thrown from over the door and disappear against the black shadow of the house.  There was a long pause, during which we held our breath, and then a very gentle creaking sound came to our ears.  The window was being opened.  The noise ceased, and again there was a long silence.  The fellow was making his way into the house.  We saw the sudden flash of a dark lantern inside the room.  What he sought was evidently not there, for again we saw the flash through another blind, and then through another.

“Let us get to the open window.  We will nab him as he climbs out,” Lestrade whispered.