‘I am not done,’ snarled Pickering. ‘I am looking for a Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson. They were spotted not far from here. Holmes is a tall man, built like a lamp post, dark hair, full of himself. The other fellow is shorter, fair, moustache, heavier build. Quite ordinary.’

I did not wish this man well.

‘And who might they be?’ asked Fortuny.

‘Wanted in connection with this same murder,’ said Pickering. ‘I’d like to have a look around.’

‘No one else is here, Mr Pickering,’ said Fortuny. ‘But this equipment is very delicate. Displace one small thing and the entire apparatus could collapse. You and your police department would then be liable to the University for hundreds of pounds. Hundreds. But by all means, come in and have a look, if you must.’

‘Never mind,’ said the sergeant. ‘But … who is that woman who playacts at magic like a loon?’

I heard what sounded like a growl from Madame.

‘She was joking with you, Officer. Madame Borelli is a student of my work.’ Fortuny approached the policeman and now stood by Madame.

Pickering stayed on the offensive. ‘No student dresses like that!’

Indeed, Madame Borelli was perhaps a bit outstanding in her signature black and red.

Fortuny shrugged. ‘Ask, if you do not believe me. It is true.’

‘Yes? Well, I cannot imagine that ladies are allowed in these labs,’ said Pickering. ‘Perhaps I will report you.’

‘Well, Mr – er, I am sorry, but you did not give me your name,’ said Fortuny.

‘Pickering.’

‘Well, Mr Pickering, the late Mr James Clerk Maxwell – he is the founder of our laboratory, in case you did not know – was progressive in this matter. Ladies study and even work here.’ He smiled. ‘But strangers – that is another matter. Trespassing without invitation here is strictly regulated. Perhaps I will report you.’

Pickering hesitated only a moment, then grunted and departed.

Holmes and I exhaled in relief and exited the cupboard. Holmes quickly thanked Madame Borelli and Fortuny.

‘Is it true, then, about Maxwell admitting ladies?’ I asked.

‘It is,’ said Fortuny. ‘What is going to happen to poor Leo?’

‘Nothing, if he is innocent,’ said Holmes. ‘And Madame Borelli … you do land on your feet like a cat. Watson, come, we have two more places to search. The trail grows cold.’

Landing on her feet? Madame, I thought, had a way of landing dead centre in luck. I wondered when and where she might next appear.

PART SEVEN

ILLUSIONS

‘Atoms can swerve so there’s always the small possibility even for air molecules of not being forced to follow the determined laws.’

—James Clerk Maxwell

CHAPTER 33

A Palpable Hit