Fricano looked aghast at the thought. It seemed the man might pass out. I felt in my pocket for my smelling salts.

‘Excuse me, sir. I must sit down a moment,’ murmured Fricano, seemingly overcome with the emotion of the events. He moved away, offstage.

Holmes turned to the young policeman. ‘Hamilton, stay with Mr Fricano, would you?’ Hamilton, relieved to have something to do, nodded.

At precisely this moment, Lestrade entered at the other end of the hall with two of his men.

‘Lestrade!’ cried Holmes. ‘Have you found Madame?’

Lestrade approached, coughing at the terrible odour. ‘Madame Borelli has fled! Flown the coop. All her things – her clothes, her personal items – packed up and gone.’ He waved a slip of paper in triumph. ‘I found this receipt for a train to Palermo. The Borellis had a huge row earlier today.’

He arrived on the stage to stand near us and gestured towards the cauldron. ‘It is clear that the lady engineered this terrible thing. I’m sure you concur!’

‘Madame is now en route to Italy, then?’ asked Holmes.

‘Ha! I have men on their way to the station and have cabled ahead,’ Lestrade crowed. ‘We will catch this murderous witch!’

‘What of Mr Borelli’s things? Are they still in the hotel room?’

‘Well, they were all still there, of course.’

‘Everything?’

‘So far as we could tell. He expected to return, but obviously she killed him here and escaped.’

‘So it appears,’ murmured Holmes. ‘Were his things of an elegant or expensive nature? A silver hairbrush, jewelled cufflinks, a silver-tipped walking stick – anything like that?’

‘Mr Borelli’s? Why?’

‘Please, just answer the question.’

Lestrade bristled. ‘I can’t say they were. Just … regular, rather ordinary ones.’

‘New or used?’

What was Holmes on about, I wondered.

‘I did not notice,’ the inspector snapped. ‘Well, newish, perhaps. But everything was still there. I don’t think he was a wealthy man.’

‘Perhaps. But Mr Borelli had a taste for fine things,’ remarked Holmes.

‘You digress, Mr Holmes, at a terrible moment!’

I will admit that thought was mine as well. Just then a cry was heard from behind a makeshift wing at stage left. I dashed towards the sound and found Fricano crouched over the floor, looking behind a stack of bulky, fake boulders. Hamilton stood next to him.

Fricano arose with a shout! ‘Come quick! Come quick! It is Madame Borelli!’

And then I recognized the lady’s red scarf. It snaked out across the floor, seeming to ooze from behind the boulders like a bloodstain.

CHAPTER 26

The How and the Why

Holmes and I knelt beside the prostrate form of Madame Borelli. I felt for a pulse. ‘Alive, Holmes!’ I said. He exhaled in relief.