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was hooded and masked. I could make out nothing.’

‘Height?’

‘At least my height. Perhaps taller.’

At that moment, young Palmer burst into the room. ‘They caught Father Lamb, Mr Hadley! He was running fast, but he claims Mr Holmes attacked him as he tried to rescue Vitale from a suicide attempt.’

Hadley stood up behind his desk. ‘Is there any chance that you misunderstood the priest’s actions, Mr Holmes?’

Holmes shook his head wearily.

‘Mr Vitale told us that Father Lamb attempted to kill him,’ I said.

‘But Mr Vitale has lied before!’ said Hadley. ‘Holmes?’

‘No. Father Lamb was yanking on Mr Vitale’s legs to hasten his death.’

‘But might you be mistaken? Couldn’t he have been trying to hoist him and save the boy, as we did, just in time?’

We heard a commotion just outside the door and Father Lamb’s strident voice: ‘An outrage! Unhand me!’

‘Shall I let them in, sir?’ asked Palmer.

Holmes leaped to his feet, discarding his blanket. He was suddenly on fire. ‘Wait!’ He paused, finger to his lips. ‘Mr Hadley, let me question the priest. What I say or do will seem strange. Give nothing away, please. All will become clear shortly. I will require Constable Palmer’s help. Trust me. Mr Hadley, may I suggest that you do not indicate to the father that he is a suspect, rather that we made a mistake? Will you agree to all this?’

Hadley hesitated briefly, then nodded. ‘In for a penny,’ said he. ‘Palmer, give Mr Holmes your full support.’

Holmes beckoned the young man over and whispered at some length to him. The fellow nodded. ‘I understand you, sir.’

Palmer looked over at Hadley, who nodded approval. ‘Do as he asks,’ said the Inspector.

Palmer departed. Holmes turned to us both with a smile. ‘As they call this in a conjuring show, gentlemen, you are about to witness … the Prestige.’

CHAPTER 42

The Prestige

Finnegan and Palmer entered with Father Lamb in tow. Covered with a thin sheen of sweat, the man was the picture of wounded innocence. ‘Unhand me!’ he cried. ‘I beg your forbearance!’

‘Men, you can let him go. Do be seated, Father Lamb,’ said Hadley. The two policemen exited the room, leaving the four of us. ‘Some brandy, sir? Or coffee?’

The priest shook his head but remained standing.

‘We clearly owe you an apology. However, we have just a few questions for you. Why did you run from us?’

‘I was trying to cut down poor Mr Vitale from hanging himself when this madman attacked me!’ said the priest, gesturing to Holmes. ‘I was so upset, all I could think of was to get away! I am afraid I panicked.’ He glanced around the room taking in Hadley, Holmes and me. ‘The young man? Did he survive?’

‘No. I am sorry, Father,’ said Holmes. ‘You have my abject apology. Had I not mistakenly tried to stop you, Mr Vitale would be alive today.’

Hadley and I exchanged the smallest of glances.

The priest swallowed. ‘Vitale is dead, then?’

‘Alas, he is,’ said Holmes, the picture of contrition. ‘And may God forgive me. You were trying to save him. I made a dreadful mistake.’

‘What a terrible shame indeed!’ exclaimed Father Lamb, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘You behaved precipitously, Mr – what was it? – Holmes?’

‘Please be seated, Father,’ said Holmes.

I was eager to see Holmes play this through. He continued the subterfuge. ‘I suppose the only small recompense is that I saved the hangman’s fee. That is, if Mr Vitale killed Miss Dillie Wyndham.’

The priest sighed and took a chair facing the three of us. ‘Sadly, it is true. I do not reveal confessions normally, but in this case I must. I entered the room and Vitale was already standing on his cot, a sheet tied round his neck and ready to jump. “I confess, Father,” he said, “I killed Odelia Wyndham. She betrayed me.” And then before I could stop him …’ Lamb shook his head ruefully. ‘What a terrible, terrible end for what I hear was a promising lad.’

‘Indeed,’ said Holmes. ‘Of course, it is true that Miss Wyndham had lied and cheated Mr Vitale. Can you shed any light on this for us?’

‘Yes, we are all ears, Father,’ said Hadley.

‘Well, now you are,’ said the priest righteously. ‘Although if you had come to me in the first place—’

‘What would you have told us?’ asked Hadley.

‘Mr Holmes knows all this, that Miss Dillie Wyndham came to Peregrine – to Deacon Buttons – for advice, for help. She was being hounded by two students and was afraid for her life.’

‘For her life?’ mused Holmes.

‘Sir, you are being disingenuous,’ replied Father Lamb testily. He turned to Hadley. ‘I was present when Deacon Buttons told this man of threatening letters Dillie Wyndham had received. May I see Deacon Buttons, please?’

‘Oh, yes, of course, I recall that now,’ said Holmes, rubbing his forehead tiredly. ‘It has been a fraught night and morning. Of course, no one has actually seen these letters. Unless perhaps your deacon. But was there a further threat, perhaps more specific, after this?’

‘Yes, another letter from Leo Vitale.’

‘I see. A letter from Vitale? What did it say?’ asked Holmes. ‘Do you have it now?’

Father Lamb shifted in his chair and turned to Inspector Hadley. ‘Sir, why are you allowing this man to question me so?’

‘Please consider him as an official representative of the police and answer him directly,’ said Hadley.

The priest paused, fingered the cross hanging from a chain round his neck. ‘Very well. In a letter Miss Wyndham had received, Vitale threatened to murder her. It seems the duplicitous girl had pledged herself to him, then became engaged to another.’

‘Enough to enrage anyone, certainly. Where is Vitale’s letter now?’ asked Holmes. ‘Or is this, too, conveniently missing?’

‘The deacon destroyed the letter, of course, hoping to dissuade Vitale from murderous sin,’ declared Father Lamb.

Convenient indeed, I thought. But what if there was such a letter? If this were true, it did indeed implicate the young scientist.

‘Hmm. Are you sure it was not Miss Wyndham’s other suitor, that

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