She looked down at her reticule, caressing the long, gold tassel. ‘Both,’ she answered finally. ‘He tries to win our bookings. Not successful.’

‘But whose finger is this?’ I interjected.

They ignored me.

‘Give me the history,’ said Holmes. ‘And then about the finger. Leave nothing out.’ He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Madame Borelli hesitated but I nodded to her to continue.

‘Santo and I, we were once engaged to be married. He was, is, a good magician. He was looking for a pretty woman to assist him in his act. He hired me from many girls because I do more than assist. I invent, direct, improve. He quickly saw my value.’

‘How did you gain your skills, Madame?’ Holmes asked.

‘But the finger!’ I exclaimed. ‘What of this finger?’

She ignored me. ‘My father and my uncle. Both magicians in Sicily. We had a library of books, all of them I read. I improved their acts. At twelve years old.’

She had clearly captured Holmes’s interest. ‘Yes, go on,’ he urged.

‘Most men do not listen to a girl. But I did not care, and I made them hear me. I went to Rome, working as assistant to famous magician, and helping him too. My reputation grew. Then I met Santo. Together we form a great act, and he does mind-reading and also the hand magic.’

‘Hand magic?’ asked Holmes, opening one eye. ‘Do you mean close-up magic?’

‘Yes. You can stand very close and look carefully, and still you cannot see how is done. I gave him many ideas, so he is very, very good. Very fast, the hands. Coins, cards, even things on fire, he hides quickly. Dangerous. I designed all this. We were good partners.’

‘But this finger …’ I said.

Holmes gave me a sharp glance. ‘Stolen from a cadaver, most likely, Watson. A theatrical touch but not one of interest to us at this precise moment. Isn’t that right, Madame Borelli?’

The lady waved her hand dismissively, then put a finger to her lips. True or not, she was not about to say.

‘You were in love with Santo, working with him and helping him with his act, then you met Dario?’ prompted Holmes.

The lady smiled. ‘Yes. Dario and me, one year ago, we were in love, even from the first seeing. The first seconds. It was instant. It was perfect. But Santo … he saw, of course.’

‘Yes, a mind reader,’ said Holmes sardonically.

‘You mean an actual mind reader?’ I asked.

Holmes sighed. ‘There are no actual mind readers, Watson. Dear God, what happened to you in Bath? This Colangelo is probably just observant. And for performances, there are devices. Spies who provide advance information. Codes to convey facts without others noticing. It is all rather simple.’ He turned to the lady. ‘In any case, Santo did not miss the attraction. Go on.’