‘Ilaria? She wishes to cause me trouble, perhaps? She is angry with me because I left her.’

‘She states otherwise, Mr Colangelo. She says that she left you for Borelli. She told me this accident ruined your act, and for that you blame Borelli.’

‘Why would that fool do me harm? If she left me for Borelli, truly, then he has “won the prize”, as you say. Ilaria is his.’

‘Then Madame Borelli did leave you?’

Colangelo was silent for a moment. Then, finally, ‘Well, yes. We had a … a falling out.’

Just then the coin slipped from his left hand where it had continued its dance. It hit the floor and rolled over to me, stopping when it struck my foot. I leaned down to retrieve it and handed it to Colangelo.

‘Mr Colangelo, we could save valuable time if you would only begin with the truth instead of arriving at it by circuitous means. Is Madame Borelli accurate in saying that locks are not your forté?’

The man shrugged. He placed the coin on the table, stood up, and approached me, standing close. Uncomfortably close. I remained seated but felt uneasy.

‘How adept are you at dealing with mechanical contraptions, Mr Colangelo?’ persisted Holmes.

‘I am not so good with the locks. I am what’s called the “sleight of hand”.’ He gently waved his empty left hand in the air. With a sudden lunge, and before I could react, Colangelo struck me a sharp blow on the side of the head.

CHAPTER 21

The Tables Turned

‘Ouch!’ It happened so fast that I had no time to duck.

A coin appeared in Colangelo’s left hand, as though he’d removed it from my hair.

‘Sleight of hand will be learned by the left hand! Progress, you see!’ he exclaimed triumphantly, holding up this second coin.

He sat back down in the chair facing us and placed this coin next to the first on the table. A third appeared as if by magic in his left hand, and he resumed threading it back and forth through his fingers. ‘Though now I am mostly a mind reader.’

‘A mind reader, yes, of course,’ said Holmes, archly. ‘Madame Borelli so informed us. Perhaps a more difficult trick.’

‘It is no trick,’ said Colangelo. ‘Mind-reading, this is the real magic.’

Holmes shook his head.

‘I see that you doubt me, Mr Holmes. Then tell me this: how do I know that you drink your coffee black? That you eat very little? That you play a stringed instrument? That you care very much for the man sitting beside you? Too much, perhaps. It may be the death of you.’

There was a pause. I glanced at Holmes, realizing at once that my reaction to this could easily give something away. I turned back to Colangelo, attempting to keep my face neutral.

To my surprise, Holmes laughed.

‘Not bad,’ said he. ‘Three of four are correct. But a trifle obvious.’