I am starting to contemplate the minor issue that I am not really what you would call well-trained in writing Sherlock Holmes-style mysteries. I may need to start adding more distractions.
“Oh, yes, Doctor. The hairs are distinctive in both shape and odor. They were cast off in the first heat of transformation, too: some of them seem half-changed from human hair.”
“They do that?” asked Doyle. “How interesting. I wonder why the hairs do not simply revert back to hu- mortal form.”
“The wolf is not in the soul only,” explained Magda. If she had noticed Doyle’s half-slip, she was either too polite or too indifferent to draw attention to it. “The body, it too is changed by the wolf. Like moving a rock from one box to another, yes? Take away your hand, and the rock does not go back to its first box. You must pick it up again if you want to return it.”
“That is why the werewolf hair does not change back when it is ripped out,” I said. “As this was.” I sniffed. “There is werewolf blood, too.”
Bell stifled a swear, presumably to spare my and Magda’s ears. “How much blood?” he asked. “Enough to be dangerous?”I shook my head. “I doubt it, Doctor. There are only a few drops. Not enough to analyze or use in a spell, so the curse would likely not take root.”
“Of course, of course,” said Bell. Half to himself, and more than half-sourly, he muttered, “Can’t forget to test for curses now, what?”