The Complete Adventures of Feluda: Volume II (20 page)

‘You didn’t get that snuff box, did you?’

‘No, no, certainly not.’

‘I see. So are you suggesting that we should all go wherever he’s
asked you to meet him?’

‘Yes. Don’t you think it’s a golden opportunity to catch him red-handed? You could go a little early and hide somewhere. I would go at eleven, and then . . . well, I guess you’d know what to do if you saw him.’

‘You don’t think going to the police might be a good idea?’

‘No, no, no. Please don’t do that. You must go alone, or with your friend and your cousin here, if you like, but please don’t even mention the police. He’ll kill me, I tell you! In fact, you ought to be armed yourself. Sadhu Dastidar is a dangerous man.’

‘Go on, Felu Babu, say yes,’ Lalmohan Babu said without a moment’s hesitation. ‘If the dacoits of Rajasthan couldn’t frighten us, what chance does this man have? None at all!’

‘I’ll show you the place. It’s about four miles from the station.’ Feluda agreed. Mr Datta finished his coffee, and stood up. ‘Thank you, Mr Mitter. Will you please meet me at ten o’clock tonight?’

‘All right. Where should we meet you?’

‘If you go past our house, a couple of furlongs later you’ll find a crossing where three roads meet. There is a sweet shop on one side. That is where I’ll be waiting for you.’

Although the traffic was not likely to be heavy at that time of night, we left a little before nine, giving ourselves more than an hour to reach Barasat. We had our dinner before leaving, which felt slightly strange because none of us was used to eating so early. ‘If we start to feel peckish a little later,’ Lalmohan Babu observed, ‘we can always go to that sweet shop where Mr Datta is meeting us. I’m sure they’ll have kachauris and aloo-sabzi.’

Lalmohan Babu’s driver was greatly excited on being told why we were returning to Barasat. Luckily for us, he was a great admirer of Feluda, and quite fond of watching action-packed Hindi films. Any other driver would have been cross at being told to drive out of town late at night. But Lalmohan Babu’s driver, Haripada, seemed to get new life in his tired limbs when Feluda explained the situation.

When we reached VIP Road, Lalmohan Babu decided to burst into song. ‘Everyone has gone to the wood, on this moonlight night . . .’ he
began, but one look from Feluda stopped him immediately. The sky was totally dark. There was no sign of the moon. But it was a clear night. Perhaps the faint light from the stars would be of some use. In accordance to Feluda’s instructions, I was wearing a dark shirt; and Lalmohan Babu had put on Feluda’s raincoat over his light yellow pullover. Although it wasn’t possible to see it in the car, I knew that when he got out, one of his pockets would hang heavy under its load. He had borrowed the iron rod of Srinath’s hand-grinder and stuffed it into his pocket. Feluda, too, was armed, but not with an iron rod. In his jacket pocket lay his Colt revolver.

We reached the crossing just before ten. Mr Datta was standing in front of a paan stall next to the sweet shop. Haripada stopped the car. Mr Datta got in swiftly, and said, ‘Please take the next right turn.’ Only a few minutes later, the number of houses grew appreciably less. The streetlights disappeared. I realized we had left the town of Barasat behind us and were in the country.

‘The first indigo factory was built in Barasat,’ Mr Datta told us. ‘If you ever come this way in daylight, you’ll be able to see broken old houses in which the British owners of these factories used to live.’

We drove in silence for another twenty minutes. Then, suddenly, Mr Datta said, ‘Here we are. Stop the car.’

Our car came to a halt. All of us trooped out.

‘Please tell your driver to wait here with the car. I’ll show you where Sadhu Dastidar has asked me to meet him. Then your car can take me home, and come back here. I’ll make my own way to the right place just before eleven.’

Lalmohan Babu gave some money to his driver, and said, ‘Get yourself something to eat after you’ve dropped Mr Datta. It may well be quite late by the time we get back home.’

We began walking through a field. Five minutes later, we found ourselves in what appeared to be a wood.

‘Madhumurali Deeghi is behind all these trees. But we have to go over there,’ Mr Datta pointed at the trees. We began walking again. It was too dark to see anything clearly, but I could make out the outlines of broken structures. This place wasn’t really a wood. It had probably been a part of private grounds that belonged to some rich owner of an indigo factory. Years of neglect had turned it into a jungle. A large house must have stood here once. Part’s of its front veranda were still standing upright. Thank goodness it was winter, or we might have had to deal with snakes.

‘It’s probably quite safe at this moment to use a torch,’ Feluda remarked.

‘Yes, I don’t think right now it would matter.’

Feluda switched on his small pocket torch. We made our way towards the rubble of the derelict building, trying not to stumble or fall into potholes.

‘There it is, look!’ Mr Datta pointed at a tree. ‘That’s a sheora tree. That’s where Sadhu Dastidar asked me to wait.’

Feluda shone his torch briefly on the tree, then switched it off. ‘Perhaps I should go now,’ Mr Datta said.

‘Yes. We’ll see you in . . . let’s see . . . about forty-five minutes?’

‘OK.’

Mr Datta made an about turn and disappeared in the direction from which we had come. A minute later, we couldn’t even hear his footsteps.

‘Here’s some Odomos,’ Feluda said, taking out a tube from his pocket, ‘you may find it useful.’

‘Oh, thank you, Felu Babu. Malaria is on the rise again, isn’t it?’ All of us applied Odomos on our hands, faces and necks, and prepared ourselves for a long wait. We didn’t have to stand, for there were small piles of bricks strewn about everywhere that could be used as chairs or stools. Conversations had to be carried out in whispers, but after the first few minutes, we fell silent. By now my eyes had got used to the dark, and I could see that there was a wide variety of trees, including mango, banyan and peepal. There were bamboo groves as well. From the far distance came the faint noises of rickshaw horns, trains, barking dogs—I could even hear a transistor being played somewhere. Feluda’s watch had a luminous dial, so he could see the time even in the dark.

It seemed to be getting colder by the minute. Lalmohan Babu hadn’t brought his cap, and his handkerchief was white, so all he could do to protect his head was cover it with his hands. After a long period of silence, we heard him say something under his breath. ‘What did you say?’ Feluda whispered.

‘N-nothing,’ he whispered back. ‘It’s just that I suddenly remembered old fairy tales. Don’t spooks and ghosts live in sheora trees?’

‘Yes, particularly female ones. They slip down the tree and attack you. Have you ever seen a sheora tree before? I haven’t.’

The stars in the sky were changing their positions. The one that
was right over a coconut tree even a few minutes ago was now practically hidden behind it. I raised my eyes to the sky to see if I could see a familiar constellation. At this precise moment, there was a noise, quite distinct from all the other noises my ears were getting used to. Footsteps. There could be no mistake.

It was not yet eleven o’clock. Only a couple of minutes ago, Feluda had looked at his watch and said, ‘Ten forty-five.’ All of us sat still like statues.

The sound of footsteps was coming from the path—if it could be called a path—that led to the tree. We had taken the same path half an hour ago. It wasn’t possible to hear the sound unless I strained my ears. The racket the crickets were making in the bamboo groves was pretty loud, but the noise of the traffic on the main road had gone.

A few seconds later, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was walking toward the sheora tree, slowly reducing its speed as it got closer. We were only a few yards away, partially hidden by a broken wall. Who was this man approaching us? Was it Sadhan Dastidar? There was no way to tell.

‘Mr Datta!’ the man called softly. He had stopped walking. I could feel Feluda standing next to me, his body tense, and ready to spring into action.

The man took a few steps forward. ‘Mr Datta!’ he called again. Lalmohan Babu moved slightly, raising his right elbow. He was digging into his pocket to get his weapon.

The man was now only a few feet away. ‘Mr Dat—!’ He couldn’t finish. Feluda leapt up, and landed on him. I was about to do the same, when something happened to halt me in my tracks.

Two other men sprang forward and fell on top of Feluda. This was so completely unexpected that for a few moments, I could only stand and stare foolishly. But years of experience had taught me not to lose my nerve easily. I could see that Feluda had hit one of the men, and he was moving in my direction, swaying slightly. It took me only a couple of seconds to pull myself together, grab him and sock him on the jaw. He fell down on the grass without uttering a single sound. I began to feel quite jubilant.

But . . . but . . . what was this? Loads of other men were creeping out from behind the trees and other parts of the broken building. One of them caught my arms and pinned them behind my back. Two more went and attacked Feluda. I could hear him struggle, but he was totally helpless to do anything, except try to kick at my
adversary.
What was Lalmohan Babu doing? Where was he?

There was no time to look, for just as I thought of him, I felt a severe blow on my chin. In the same instant, my knees buckled under me and, quietly, I slipped into oblivion.

‘Are you all right?’ asked a familiar voice.

Feluda was the first person I could see when I came round. ‘There’s nothing to worry about I, too, had been knocked out for ten minutes,’ he added.

Now I could see the others in the room. There was Amitabh Haldar, and a lady next to him—his wife most probably—and Lalmohan Babu, Mr Datta, and standing near the door was Achintya Haldar. I had not seen this room before.

I sat up slowly. Apart from an aching chin, there didn’t appear to be any other problem. Feluda had been hit on his right eye. The area around it had already started to turn black. I had seen black-eyes only in films so far.

‘Only Jatayu managed to remain totally unharmed,’ Feluda told me.

‘Oh? How? What did he do?’

‘It was that iron rod,’ Lalmohan Babu explained. ‘I tell you, Tapesh, there is no weapon on earth that can match that rod from a hand-grinder. All I did was hold it over my head and whirl it around like a helicopter. Not a single hooligan could come near me.’

‘Who were those hooligans?’

‘Hired goondas.’

‘I knew the man was dangerous,’ Mr Datta shook his head with profound regret, ‘but I never though he would go this far. Can you imagine the shock I got when I returned to the spot? One of you was lying flat on the ground, the second was lying on his stomach, and the third was sitting, looking completely dazed! The culprit and his team had disappeared without a trace.’

Feluda filled me in quickly. When Mr Datta arrived, he and Lalmohan Babu carried me back to the car. Luckily, Amitabh Haldar was still awake when they brought me to the house. He and his wife had made arrangements for me to rest in one of their guest rooms on the ground floor. It was a large and comfortable room, with an attached bathroom. Mr Haldar insisted that we spend the
night in his house. I didn’t mind, although none of us had brought extra clothes.

‘If only you had told us, Mr Datta! I would have informed the police, and then none of this would have happened,’ Mr Haldar said severely.

‘I know, I know. I am so sorry, sir. I wish I hadn’t allowed myself to be so utterly terrorized, but . . .’ Mr Datta’s voice trailed away. I couldn’t really blame the man. Who would have the courage to go to the police after being threatened like that?

Mrs Haldar finished making all the arrangements for our stay. ‘I have read all your books, and greatly enjoyed them. But with one disaster after another, there’s been no chance to talk to you properly,’ she said to Lalmohan Babu.

‘I must speak to your son tomorrow, before I go,’ Feluda said. ‘If a thief got into their room, not many young boys would be able to show the courage he has shown.’

About an hour later, as we were getting ready to go to bed, Feluda suddenly made a remark that surprised us.

‘I had no idea a sock on the jaw could also work like a brain tonic,’ he observed.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I have finally been able to figure out how Sadhu Dastidar could vanish like that.’

‘You don’t say, Felu Babu!’

‘A very cunning man, I have to admit. But the man he’s up against is no less clever, or crafty.’

He refused to say any more.

Feluda got up early to meet Aniruddha before he left for school. The little boy told us in great detail how he had chased the thief away. He certainly had a lively imagination. Had he perhaps imagined the whole thing, I wondered.

‘You haven’t shown me the gun you were going to attack the thief with,’ Feluda said to him. ‘I mean the one you showed your uncle Achintya.’

Aniruddha found his machine-gun and gave it to Feluda. ‘It
breathes fire,’ he said solemnly. The gun was made of red plastic. It made a noise like a real machine-gun when the trigger was pulled, and bright sparks came out of the barrel. Feluda examined it carefully, then returned it to Anu.

‘A beautiful weapon,’ he said. ‘Now let’s see if something can be done, so your sleep doesn’t get disturbed.’

‘You mean you’ll catch the thief?’

‘Catching thieves is a detective’s business, isn’t it?’

‘I guess. What about my chandana? Will you catch whoever took it?’

‘I’m trying very hard to catch him, but it’s not easy.’

‘Is it most terribly difficult?’

‘Yes, most terribly difficult.’

‘A huge, big mystery?’

‘You’re right. It is a huge, big mystery.’

‘But you found blood on its cage!’

‘Yes, that is my only clue.’

‘What is a clue?’

‘It’s something that helps a detective to catch thieves.’ Lalmohan Babu suddenly interrupted this conversation. ‘Tell me, Anu,’ he said, ‘did you hear this bird talk?’

‘Yes, I did. I was in my room, and the bird was in its cage. I heard it say something.’

‘What did it say?’

‘It said, “deck chair, dadu”, “deck chair, dadu”. It said it twice. I ran out of my room, but it didn’t speak at all after that.’

Lalmohan Babu grinned. I had to admit ‘deck chair, dadu’ didn’t sound very different from ‘fake hair, babu’, especially if it was said quickly.

‘Is there anyone in your house who might be able to catch a bird?’ Feluda asked Amitabh Haldar.

‘Yes, our mali’s son Shankar has caught a couple of birds in the past. He’s very quick on his feet.’

‘Tell him to watch out for your chandana. I’m now pretty sure it’s still somewhere in your garden at the back.’

We left for home soon after this. I had already seen in the local daily that Feluda’s advertisement had come out. But none of us could anticipate how quickly we’d get a result.

Around twelve the same day, a young man of about twenty-five turned up at our house. Judging by his hairstyle and the jeans he was
wearing, he was a man keen on following the current fashion. Feluda asked him to sit down, but he shook his head.

‘No, I haven’t got time to sit down. I am on my way to an interview,’ he said. ‘I came only because I saw your advertisement about a bird.’

‘I see, was it yours?’

‘No. It used to belong to my grandfather. He died last month. He was very fond of this bird, and used to look after it himself. Since my mother’s not very well and my father’s far too busy, and I couldn’t be bothered at all, we decided to sell it.’

‘How long did it stay with your family?’

‘Nearly ten years.’

‘Did it talk?’

‘Yes, my grandfather had taught it a few words. He had a rather weird sense of humour. The bird learnt to say some strange words.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean, what it used to say was very different from the usual “Radhe Shyam” or ‘“Hare Krishna”. My grandfather used to play chess every day. He taught the bird to say “checkmate”. He also played bridge. If he could figure out that his opponent had got a good hand, he used to warn his partner. The words he spoke were a kind of code that his partner understood. The bird had picked it up, because he used to say it so often. Then the bird began to say it, too.’

‘What were these words?’

‘Take care, Sadhu.’

‘What? Why Sadhu?’

‘I don’t know. I told you, it was a code between him and his partner.’

‘I see. Very well. Thank you very much indeed. You’ve been extremely helpful.’

‘Would there be anything else—?’

‘No, nothing else, thank you.’

‘OK. Er . . . I didn’t realize from the address it was your house.’

‘That isn’t surprising.’

‘I’m very glad to have met you. I mean, it isn’t every day that one meets someone famous . . . ha ha!’

After the young man had gone, Feluda told me he was not to be disturbed and disappeared into his room. He emerged five hours later to have a cup of tea. Then he rang Inspector Hajra.

‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ he asked.

‘Nothing special. Why?’

‘Could you reach Mr Haldar’s house by nine o’clock tomorrow morning? I think I’ve managed to solve the mystery. You must come fully prepared.’

Lalmohan Babu was given more or less the same message. We would take a taxi to reach his house by eight-thirty. Then we’d go to Barasat in his car.

‘Why, what’s the matter? More mysteries?’ he asked.

‘No, Lalmohan Babu. Every mystery’s cleared up!’

Amitabh Haldar was the last one to be informed.

‘I’m planning to hold a meeting in your house tomorrow morning,’ Feluda told him.

‘A meeting?’

‘Yes. I want all male members of your household to attend it. Inspector Hajra will also be present.’

‘What time did you have in mind?’

‘Nine. This may delay your other work, but believe me, it’s urgent.’

‘All right. But when you say male members, do you mean Anu should be included?’

‘Oh, no, no. He, in fact, should not be present. I meant only the adults.’

We reached Mr Haldar’s house to find that the inspector and his men had already arrived. Lalmohan Babu and I were both feeling very excited. Heaven knew what Feluda was going to reveal, and who would turn out to be the culprit. ‘I am not even trying to think,’ Lalmohan Babu whispered to me. ‘I just can’t, and I totally fail to see how your cousin could not only have worked everything out, but remain so calm about it!’

Everyone had gathered in the large drawing room on the ground floor. Mr Datta greeted us as we entered. ‘I am so glad I’ll soon be leaving for Delhi,’ he confided. ‘I am going crazy without any real work to do!’

We hadn’t yet had the chance to speak to Achintya Haldar properly. He came over and asked Feluda, ‘How long will this take? I am very busy with a new role. It’s a long and difficult one, and the play starts tomorrow. I can’t afford to spend a lot of time on anything else.’

‘This won’t take more than half an hour, I promise.’

Achintya Babu went away, muttering under his breath. A bearer
had served coffee to everyone. Feluda finished his, and stood up. He was wearing dark glasses to cover his black eye. It made him look smarter than ever. Everyone in the room fell silent as he began speaking.

‘When I came here at Amitabh Haldar’s invitation, I had no idea I would get involved in a murder case. What was most puzzling about Parvaticharan’s murder was, of course, the disappearance of Sadhan Dastidar. He was in Parvaticharan’s study from ten-fifteen to ten-thirty. At ten-thirty, we saw him coming out of the sitting room upstairs and then going down the stairs. Five minutes later, when we went to the study after a chat with little Anu, we found Parvaticharan dead. We looked for Mr Dastidar everywhere, but he was nowhere to be seen. The chowkidar insisted he hadn’t seen him go out. He wasn’t hiding in the garden. The compound wall was too high to jump over, especially with a briefcase in one hand. We—’

Achintya Babu interrupted Feluda. ‘Why are you forgetting the man who visited my father before Mr Dastidar arrived?’

‘Pestonji? He couldn’t have used the force with which your father was struck. He’s an old man, Mr Haldar, and he suffers from arthritis. He cannot even raise his right arm properly. We have to rule him out. But there was a third person who might have gone to your father’s room before Sadhan Dastidar’s arrival.’

‘Who?’

‘You.’

Achintya Haldar sprang to his feet. ‘You m-mean I . . . I would try to k-kill . . .?’

‘No. I am not saying that you actually tried to kill your own father. I am merely saying that you had the opportunity to do so.’

‘Oh. Thank God for that.’

‘Anyway,’ Feluda continued, ‘there were two likely explanations for Dastidar’s disappearance. One, the chowkidar was lying. Two, he did not leave the premises at all, in which case the chowkidar was obviously telling the truth.’

‘You mean he might have been hiding somewhere inside the house? In the attic, or some unused room?’ Hrishikesh Datta asked.

‘No,’ Amitabh Haldar protested, ‘I don’t think he could have gone up to the attic without being seen; and except for the drawing room, the store and Mr Datta’s bedroom, every other room on the ground floor is locked. How could he have got into any of those?’

‘Well, he certainly wasn’t hiding in my room, I can tell you that!’
Mr Datta said emphatically. ‘In fact, I wasn’t home when he arrived.’

‘Well, Mr Datta, we checked with the post office. They confirmed that you had gone there at ten o’clock and sent two telegrams. Then you—’

‘Then I went to look for a strap for my watch.’

‘Yes, so you told us. Unfortunately, no one in the local shops can remember having seen you.’

‘So what? What are you saying, Mr Mitter? Is your entire investigation dependent on what busy shop assistants can remember about their customers?’

‘No. I saw no reason to pay a lot of attention to what the shop assistants had to say. Equally, I didn’t think there was any reason to assume that you were telling us the truth.’

‘Why? Why would I tell lies?’

‘Because you yourself might have gone into Parvaticharan’s study at ten-fifteen.’

‘Have you gone mad? Didn’t you just say you had seen Sadhan Dastidar coming out of the sitting room upstairs? And now you’re suggesting I was there at the same time?’

‘Yes. Suppose Mr Dastidar did not come at all? Suppose it was you who went in his place?’

This remark was followed by pindrop silence. Mr Datta seemed bereft of speech. My head started reeling. What on earth was Feluda talking about?

Suddenly, Mr Datta burst out laughing.

‘You are joking Mr Mitter, aren’t you? I mean, are you implying that Parvaticharan was either totally insane, or completely senile? If I went in wearing a beard, wouldn’t he have recognized me?’

‘No. How could he, Mr Datta? You took off your glasses, you put on a false beard and a moustache, and you changed your clothes. Parvaticharan was sitting in his room, expecting to see a man he hadn’t seen for seven years. Why shouldn’t he think you were that same man? Because you
were
the same man, weren’t you? What is the difference between Sadhan Dastidar and Hrishikesh Datta, tell me? How was Parvaticharan to know that his new secretary was really his old one in disguise? As Sadhan Dastidar, you did have a real beard. You shaved it off. Dastidar didn’t wear glasses, but you decided Hrishikesh Datta should. And you waited all this while to settle old scores. You could never forget the humiliation of being
fired, could you?’

The expression on Mr Datta’s face had changed completely. His lips trembled, but he couldn’t speak. Two constables went and stood by his side. But Feluda had not finished.

‘You used the heavy paperweight to kill your employer. Then you thrust in into a pocket of your jacket, and threw it into the pond. After that, it took you only a couple of minutes to discard your disguise and come out once more as Hrishikesh Datta. Am I right?’

Mr Datta said nothing. I could see that the collar of his shirt was drenched with perspiration, even in December.

‘There’s one more thing. Do the words “Take care, Sadhu” mean anything to you? Didn’t you hear these words recently from a bird, the same chandana that went missing? Superstitious as you are, didn’t you think the bird knew about your plan and was warning you? And isn’t that why you took it out of its cage and released it outside? But it fought back, didn’t it, and left its mark on your arm?’

This time, Hrishikesh Datta found his tongue. ‘Absurd!’ he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair in excitement. ‘That’s utterly ridiculous. Where did it hurt me? Can you see a mark anywhere on my arms?’

‘Inspector Hajra, will you please tell one of your men to take off his wristwatch from his right arm?’

Mr Datta did his best to stop him, but one of the constables undid the clasp of his watch and it slipped off easily. Even from a distance I could see an inch-long scratch, which he had safely hidden under the strap of his watch.

‘I . . . didn’t mean to kill him. You must believe me, you must!’ Mr Datta’s voice was barely audible. His whole body shook.

‘I do. Your idea of revenge wasn’t murder. Nevertheless, he died. All you had wanted to do was steal that letter Napoleon wrote, knowing how precious it was to Parvaticharan. You knew Pestonji was prepared to buy it. So you—’

‘No, no, it wasn’t me. I didn’t do it!’ Mr Datta shouted desperately.

‘Please let me finish. I do know the whole story, I assure you. You were not alone in this, were you? You took that letter, went to your room to change your make-up, and then passed it on to your accomplice. But knowing that the police were bound to search the house, your accomplice hid it quickly, in what he thought was a perfectly safe place. Isn’t that so, Achintya Babu?’

The last question shot out like a bullet. But Achintya Haldar, it turned out, was made of sterner stuff than we had expected. He remained perfectly unperturbed, and stared back at Feluda with a smile on his lips.

‘Pray continue, Mr Mitter,’ he said sarcastically, ‘do tell us more.’

‘You went to your nephew’s room a little after half past ten, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I did. So what? He wanted me to see his new toy. Surely there was nothing wrong with that?’

‘No. But I’m sure your are aware that a thief broke into your nephew’s room shortly after the murder. He didn’t get what he was looking for. Are you going to deny that you were that thief, and you had stolen into little Anu’s room in the hope of retrieving that letter because you had hidden it in there? I know it was you who rang Pestonji and offered to bring him the stolen letter. But you didn’t find it, so nobody turned up in Pestonji’s house.’