I’ll be uploading rankings of Sherlock Holmes stories from my new book, Wherever Fact May Lead Me: A Ranking of the Sherlock Holmes Stories, every day till we reach the best story. After that, I’ll share my ranking of the best villains in the Holmes canon. You can find the rankings on my website, and you can buy a copy of the book on Amazon.
Ranking the Sherlock Holmes Stories
30. The Adventure of the Six Napoleons (May 1904, Return)
I feel like I must begin my remarks about The Six Napoleons by first calling attention to the ostensibly commendable state of Victorian bookkeeping. In the story, the Napoleonic busts were sold for fifteen shillings, the modern equivalent of about one hundred and forty-five U.S. dollars. Accordingly, the Napoleonic busts are not items of extreme value, but neither are they worthless. Throughout the tale, Holmes and Beppo use sales records of these busts to locate where they are. Now, I do not believe that it is impossible that records were kept so well that Holmes and Beppo were able to track, from receipts and ledgers, the tortuous paths of all these busts, but I do say that it is highly, highly improbable, and if the Victorian Londoners were truly that careful with their record-keeping, then I confess myself ruefully shocked, yet I applaud them.
Setting aside the suspiciously flawless paperwork trail, we get to the business of hiding the pearls in Napoleonic busts. The idea is a brilliant one, and one can imagine how such a scenario could actually occur in real life. It is more than doubtful, however, that Beppo, when seeking to regain the first Napoleonic bust after being released from prison, would steal it. Probably, he would purchase it, thereby avoiding attracting attention to himself and risking getting sent, at once, back to the slammer.
But, by story’s end Beppo must indeed return prison, and this time with likely a far more intense feeling of frustration than when he left it such a short time before. After waiting a year to be released—presumably gnashing his teeth in impatience all the while—the Italian finally is set free, only to be hounded by some scourge of his own underworld, whom Beppo inadvertently kills. In killing this man, Beppo raises his own profile, the very thing that he does not want to do. Furthermore, Beppo must feel dashedly unlucky in that he does not actually ever find the pearl. The pearl—fortunately for Holmes, Watson, and Lestrade—is in the sixth (and final) Napoleonic bust. If Beppo had but found the pearl in the first bust, the one which he should have purchased, then he would have gotten away with the treasure, presumably fenced it for a princely sum, and likely lived out the rest of his life sleeping on silken sheets, riding in carriages drawn by magnificent horses, and being waited on hand and foot. That circumstances turn out otherwise is quite fortuitous for Holmes, whom we last see bafflingly securing the black pearl in his own safe, rather than handing the pearl over to Lestrade the Scotland Yard representative in The Adventure of the Six Napoleons.
