‘This is a private matter now, and the family will deal with it. Return to London, Mr Holmes, and not a word of this to anyone, or I shall have legal proceedings instituted.’

‘Sir,’ said Holmes in his chilliest manner, ‘your idle threat is uncalled for. I have no interest in bringing shame to anyone. Only to solve a crime where a crime has been committed. Not in this house, apparently.’ He turned abruptly and left. I followed.

I was more than happy to depart this strange household.

A servant was sent to fetch us a carriage as we waited near the road some twenty yards from the house.

‘What of this doll, Holmes? Who could have put it in the river, and why?’

‘I mean to find out.’

‘But Madame Borelli?’

‘Yes, Watson, I have not forgotten. But the threat here may be more imminent. The severed arm. Cut, not broken. It is an ugly act, after all.’

‘Indeed!’

‘I am uneasy about Miss Wyndham’s three suitors. When a girl of her nature plays with so many hearts … I fear the message is a warning. And she clearly has no guidance from her family.’

‘How would this fellow have obtained the doll from the girl’s room?’

Holmes nodded in the direction of the house. ‘Do you see that tree? Its heaviest branch extends directly to one of the windows of Miss Odelia’s sitting-room. It would be a simple matter for an agile person to climb in through the window in the cover of darkness.’

Of course, Holmes had examined that area before entering the house. ‘You saw footprints at the base, I suppose?’ I said.

‘Yes, there is evidence of one female and two male climbers. One of the men’s boots has a patch on the right sole.’

Just then the maid Polly exited a side door to the house and furtively approached us.

‘Sirs?’ she began, ‘I can give you the address.’

‘Ah,’ said Holmes, ‘I thought so. She is all right, then?’

‘She was when I went back to check there this morning.’

‘What time?’

‘Early. Maybe five?’

‘Before dawn. Another risk for you, young lady!’

The girl nodded, embarrassed, then gave Holmes a slip of paper which he passed to me. On it was an address, written in an extremely untutored hand.

‘What is your mistress’s game?’ asked Holmes.

‘No game, sir. She just needs to … escape.’

I could well imagine it.

‘But I think she needs … She might need …’

‘Go on, Polly.’

‘Well, Miss Odelia, she—’ began the girl. ‘She might ought to use some help. Three fellows loves her. But I think she is … confused?’