‘You are not so terrible, up close,’ she said with the hint of a friendly smile. ‘Though I wouldn’t have you.’

Holmes said nothing but returned her unwavering look.

She reached out and straightened his tie. It had not needed straightening. Holmes was nothing if not fastidious in his dress. The girl was outrageous, and it was clearly a cultivated act.

‘You are too thin,’ said she. ‘You live on, I don’t know, coffee and nerves, perhaps? Or worse. Your eyes are tired. There is a sadness there.’

Holmes did not reply, which frustrated her. She changed tactics.

‘I do not care about this or about you!’ she exclaimed. ‘Be sad. Be whatever you like. You think you are much smarter than you are. Some women find you attractive. I do not.’

My friend appeared not to respond but I noticed his right hand twitch almost imperceptibly. I guessed it was from her proximity rather than her words.

I stood at the ready, but for what I could not fathom.

Without stepping back from Holmes, she looked over at me. ‘And you! You have the appearance of a faithful dog, awaiting scraps to be thrown to you. But ready to defend the pack with loud barking and perhaps even a bite or two. Down, boy.’

I stifled a retort and wondered at this peculiar display.

She turned her attention back to Holmes. ‘Now what are you going to do?’ she said, thrusting her face inches from his.

Again, he did not move. ‘This act must impress your young university gentlemen,’ he replied coolly. ‘Daring, I suppose, is what they think. Daring and exciting! How often do you disguise yourself in men’s clothing and accompany them to parties and sporting events?’

She looked momentarily surprised, then backed off to glance over at her closet at the man’s linen suit hanging there. She exhaled sharply in frustration, then jabbed a long delicate finger not so delicately at Holmes’s chest more than once for emphasis as she said, ‘You don’t know that. What makes you think that that is mine? I may not be so daring after all. Just extremely improper. Perhaps that costume belongs to a suitor.’

She poked him once more, hard. She was trying to provoke him, and I wondered why.

He reached up and clasped her hand, lowering it gently to her side. ‘Perhaps. As I assume someone, not your father, is paying for this room. And yet those clothes are yours,’ said Holmes, indicating the blue linen suit. Then, with surprising impropriety equal to the young lady’s own, he reached out and placed his hand flat upon her hair at the top of her head. She recoiled, and I noticed a moment of extreme fear. But of course he would never hurt the girl. Instead, he deftly removed a long hairpin. She gasped.

He held it up before her.