Art in the Blood. Bonnie Macbird

replied stiffly. ‘Thank you.’

      I looked about me. Mlle La Victoire and Holmes were nowhere to be seen.

      The Frenchman noticed this as well. ‘Merde!’ he said. ‘Where did Holmes take her?’

      ‘How do you know us?’

      At that moment, Holmes strode into the light, alone, and carrying my cape and hat. ‘Good work, Watson,’ he said, handing me my things. Then – ‘Watson, your neck!’

      ‘I’m fine.’ I removed the handkerchief. The wound still bled but only a little. I pressed harder on it.