But Lestrade nodded to his remaining man, who took the lady’s arm and conveyed her to the front of the cauldron.

Madame Borelli looked inside, went white and turned away. She steeled herself and looked again.

‘That is not Dario.’

‘As I said,’ remarked Holmes.

‘Of course it is,’ sneered Lestrade. ‘The man is burnt to a crisp.’

‘No,’ said she, wiping her tears.

‘Why do you think not, Madame?’ asked Holmes.

She shrugged. ‘Too fat maybe. But it is not him.’

Holmes stepped up and took one of her hands and led her back to the chair.

‘Madame, I believe you are correct. But if your husband went to such trouble to frame you, where would he be now?’

She hesitated and looked stricken. Tears coursed down her face. She said something in a voice so low I could not catch the words.

‘Speak up,’ said Lestrade.

‘He would be on a train.’

‘To where? asked Holmes.

‘To Berlin.’

No one said anything, but she was not forthcoming.

‘Madame?’ prompted Holmes.

The woman took a deep breath and sat very straight. ‘Gertrude Aufenbach,’ said she.

‘The German soprano?’ said Holmes, evidently surprised.

She nodded.

‘Ah, yes!’ Holmes enthused. ‘A beautiful woman. And that voice—’

‘Holmes loves the opera,’ I interjected, attempting to cover this insensitivity.

Catching himself, Holmes turned to the police detective. ‘But never mind. I suggest you send your men to the station after all, Lestrade.’

‘On the trail of a dead man! Now why should I do that? Borelli’s clothes are still in his hotel room.’

‘Expensive tastes, remember? Look for that velvet jacket. It will be gone, I wager. In his room you will only find cheap replacements bought for the illusion. And it is indeed an illusion, worthy of a conjuring star. I can prove the body in the cauldron is not Dario Borelli.’

Lestrade snorted. ‘“Data, data,” as you like to say. The buckles?’

‘Certainly. Borelli broke his ankle last week, Dr Watson here set it, and the man could not have been wearing two shoes when he entered the cauldron. He could not get a shoe on over that splint. Ask your audience that. Some will remember.’

Lestrade blinked. ‘No one could pull that off: get in, and then leap out and put another person in! His own stage manager said he did not emerge.’

‘Yes, have you found Falco Fricano yet?’

Hamilton appeared behind Lestrade. ‘No Fricano,’ he said.

‘I expect he was Borelli’s accomplice. There was much to arrange, and in a short time. Madame Borelli is no easy mark. Lestrade, I suggest you put more men on it. Fricano cannot have gone far.’

Lestrade paused, then to his credit, agreed. He turned to Hamilton and a young constable. ‘Find the stage manager! Now!’ Realizing this left the lady unguarded, he quickly handcuffed her to the chair.

‘Mr Lestrade!’ I exclaimed, finding this remarkably insensitive.