‘He is very good, Madame Borelli,’ I interjected. ‘Mr Holmes is the world’s first consulting detective. In fact, he invented the term. The police turn to him on cases they cannot solve. Some of the men are perhaps a little—’

‘Jealous,’ she said. ‘Yes, I see this.’

Holmes smiled. ‘What is troubling you?’

‘Well … Dario. He has a temper. What you see on my arm, it is not serious, it is him clutching my arm when he is too nervous or excited.’

‘What is he nervous and excited about?’ asked Holmes.

‘He received …’ She opened her small bag carefully and removed from underneath the gun a small, oblong object wrapped in a handkerchief. She slowly unwrapped it. ‘This.’

It was a human finger.

PART TWO

ENTANGLEMENT

‘The moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.’

—Omar Khayyam

CHAPTER 6

Fingering the Threat

Holmes eyed the gruesome digit with interest. ‘May I?’

He took up his magnifying glass from the table next to him and held out his hand.

She gave the thing to him and he examined it carefully, saying nothing.

Holmes handed me his glass. ‘Take a look, Watson. Male, about fifty; workman from the callus, here, and dirt under the nail. Judging from the amount of blood on the handkerchief—’

‘There is no blood on the handkerchief,’ I said.

‘Precisely. And by the look of the cut edge, severed post-mortem. Tell me what you see, Doctor.’

I took up the gruesome item. The cut was neat, done with a very sharp instrument. I could add nothing other than this to Holmes’s observations and said so.

He turned to the lady. ‘Do you know who sent this?’

There was a pause.

‘Yes. It is complicated,’ she said. ‘Dario says he does not know who sent this thing. But he knows. I can see that he knows.’

Holmes stared at her sternly. ‘Fine, you both know. Who sent it? And if you know who sent it, why have you come here instead of to the police?’

She paused. ‘I see you are detective, a real one,’ said she. ‘All right. It is Santo Colangelo, another magician, who send. A great rival to Dario. But no, more than a rival. Because he lost tip of right index finger in accident. An accident for which he blames mi Dario. I would like you to … to help me fix.’

‘Fix? How do you mean?’

She shrugged. ‘I do not wish to harm Santo Colangelo.’

Holmes glanced at me then turned a stern eye to the lady. ‘The man who threatens your husband?’

She paused and looked uncertain.

‘You want to keep this private,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘This Santo Colangelo, what is he, a rival in performance? In … ah, you are blushing. In romance, then?’