The Dressing Room

After the play, two candles burned before the mirror in the dressing room. Her make-up half removed, the woman said her name was Crane. "That line is not in the script. This afternoon it was pinned inside my costume. It was my husband's hand."

Holmes did not look at the paper. He looked at her hands. "Mrs Crane, how many years has your husband painted scenery in this theatre?" She stared. "Seven. Before that, he was in the navy."

"Then he never forgot that knot," Holmes said. "The fibre on the card was cut from a river he painted himself. The coat on the barge is his. The footprints under the trapdoor are his. A dead man is not afraid of being known by his boots."

Watson could not help asking. "Why would he pretend to die?"

Holmes pinched out one candle. "Because someone wants him dead. He only meant to go first, to play out his own death before another hand could do it. He sent for us because he needed a witness who would not lie."

❦ To be continued.