‘I merely observe,’ remarked Holmes. ‘You are twisting your wedding ring constantly and flicking it with your finger. Dismissive. You wish to be rid of it. You wish to be rid of Dario. Those bruises are exactly what we first surmised. Your husband is rough with you. He does not appreciate you. But aside from all that, you have come here for help.’

‘All right, yes. I want you to find who hurt Santo, causing him to lose a finger. It is not Dario Borelli, I am sure. If we learn the truth, Santo will no longer threaten Dario. Then … only then … I can leave Dario, happy because I know he will be safe.’

Holmes and I exchanged a glance. This was a formidable lady who not only improved her lovers’ magic acts but protected them, as a mother might look after a wayward child. Fickle, perhaps, but she could afford to be. Ilaria Borelli defined, I suppose, a bold new kind of woman. I briefly wondered what being married to such a woman, perhaps an expert in my own medical field, might be like. The thought brought a smile to my lips.

The doorbell rang for the second time that morning. Soft voices came from below. A male visitor. Madame Borelli stood again.

‘I go. Will you help me, Mr Holmes? I will pay you, of course.’

‘When I deliver your result, you can pay me then. I will visit this Santo Colangelo and see if I can discover the cause of his accident, although I must warn you that trail is cold. Why do you think he waited so long after his accident to send a threat?’

‘He is trying to win me back. But cannot. Santo is not the bad man. But now he is angry that he cannot have me. And jealous. And Dario recently is a big success.’ She took two tickets from her reticule and placed them on a table next to Holmes. ‘Come tonight. See the show again.’

Holmes sat still for a moment, considering. Then, ‘Tell the Great Borelli, er, your Dario, that I will come. I have a few questions for him. I will also visit Colangelo and see if I cannot get to the bottom of this.’

‘Very good. Thank you. And no word to Dario that you have read these pages!’ With a final glance around the room and a haughty sniff, Madame Borelli departed.

‘Not your usual case, Holmes,’ I said. ‘Seems more a matter of the heart than the brain.’

‘Hearts drive more crimes than brains do, Watson. And the conjuring element is intriguing. I always enjoy a good magic show, although most of it is glaringly obvious.’

‘If you know how it’s done,’ I said, ‘does that not remove half the fun?’

Holmes regarded me with amusement. ‘Come, come, Watson. Everyone enjoys a little sleight of hand.’ With a wave of his arm, his cigarette suddenly disappeared.