‘By omission only, and I apologize. I shall indeed write a small monograph, Madame Borelli, but fear not, I will not reveal all,’ said Holmes. ‘Please do sit down.’ She did not. ‘Stage conjuring, and escapology in particular, has long been a topic of interest to me. Most people enjoy trickery, but it is particularly vexing that some illusions – your husband’s for example, are attributed to supernatural gifts. I wish to set the record straight.’

‘I forbid it! The illusion is the magic. It is part of the performance, Mr Holmes. Dario and I – we will not be happy if you choose to expose him. You promised me to write in such a way not do this. And to do this later, much later. But—’ She gestured angrily to the straitjacket, still hanging from the ceiling. ‘Then I see you trying to duplicate this trick. Traitor! But, of course you cannot. What you do not know is—’

She broke off, staring hard at Holmes. He seemed nonplussed, but I knew my friend well enough to recognize discomfort. She walked over to him. He stood his ground. She suddenly reached around with her right hand and punched him in the shoulder. The left shoulder. The hurting one.

He gasped. I was on her in an instant, taking her from behind with both arms. But she was not to be held back. She trod on my right instep with her sharp heel, and I cried out, releasing her.

She withdrew a tiny Derringer from her reticule, pointing it at Holmes. We both froze. She backed up so that neither of us could reach her in a single move. This was certainly a lady who could look after herself.

‘You are not the first to try this. I created this trick especially for Dario. He has – how you say? – the double joints. Over time, he developed, just like a strong man develops muscles. Which he also does. But he is special: a loose man. Bends like rubber. That is not in those pages. You cannot know this unless you are very smart, and you hurt your own shoulder trying this. Ha, ha, you lying man!’

‘Madame Borelli, one thing I am not is a performer.’

I stifled a laugh. He most certainly was, although perhaps not on the stage.

‘I am a scientist and repeating results of something another man has devised is exactly what scientists do.’

‘No!’ she cried. ‘What a woman has devised. I invent this trick! Not Dario!’

‘Nevertheless, repeating the results—’

‘Are you double jointed, also?’ I asked Madame, straining to picture it.

‘Watson, good grief! Forgive us, Madame. I can see how this might be construed.’

‘No performer, you say? Then what is this?’ Madame Borelli strode to my chair and scooped up something from the floor next to it.