It was two o’clock by the time we had sent the body away for the post-mortem, dispatched a telegram to Debkumarbabu and wrapped the matter up to the best of our ability. By the time we returned home and finished our lunch, the short winter day was drawing to a close.

Byomkesh remained morose and silent. I, too, was feeling rather uncomfortable. While we had been rather anxious for something interesting to turn up, who would have thought it would present itself in this cruel fashion? I was constantly reminded of Habul’s face and felt very melancholic.

Gradually dusk rolled in; Byomkesh continued to sit by the window in silence, staring out unseeingly. Finally I asked, ‘It is suicide, isn’t it? What do you feel?’

Byomkesh was startled, ‘Eh? Oh, you mean Rekha? What is your opinion?’

Although I wasn’t entirely sure, I said, ‘What else can it possibly be? Her intent is pretty obvious from that letter.’

‘That it is. But what would you say was the method by which she committed suicide?’

‘Poison. That too she states categorically in the letter...’

‘She does. But I don’t quite understand how she could consume the poison even before she had laid her hands on it. She did ask for it in the letter; but seeing that the letter didn’t even reach its destination and was found lying under her pillow instead, where did the poison come from?’

I said, ‘The letter said that if she didn’t get poison, she would try any other means...’

‘But do you think it is possible that she would try other means even before sending the letter?’

I remained silent.

A few moments later Byomkesh said, ‘Moreover, nobody commits suicide while kneeling down to light a stove. Rekha’s death came without warning—like a bolt from the blue. So furious, so infallible was this fiery bolt, that she didn’t have a second to move. Even the matchstick she had lit burnt out in her hand.’

‘How is such a death possible?’

‘That is what I cannot figure out. I know that from among the known poisons, none except hydrocyanic acid has such fatal effects. But...’

Byomkesh left the sentence hanging.

A little diffidently, I said, ‘I do not know much about these things, but isn’t it possible that the death came from a sudden heart failure?’

Byomkesh continued to ruminate and said, ‘That is the possibility which is beginning to look more and more probable. Rekha used to take aspirin for her headaches. Perhaps she had a weak heart too ... but no, something doesn’t seem quite right. I cannot accept the possibility of a heart failure so easily, although all the evidence and logic seems to point towards it.’

He gave a perplexed laugh. ‘My brain and my instincts are not seeing eye to eye. I cannot get rid of the feeling that the death is an unnatural one, an uncommon one, and something about it is gravely wrong. But let that be; it is pointless to fret over it now—the doctor’s report tomorrow will clarify all.’

The room was in darkness; Byomkesh switched on the lights.

At this point there were a few soft knocks on the door. There had been no footsteps on the stairs. Byomkesh raised his eyebrows and called out, ‘Who is that? Come on in!’

An unknown youth entered quietly. He was well-built and quite handsome, but a shadow of grief marked his wan face. He was wearing rubber-soled shoes on his feet; this was why we hadn’t heard his footsteps. He took a few steps into the room hesitantly and said, ‘My name is Manmathanath Rudra...’

Byomkesh looked him over swiftly and said, ‘So you are Non tu? Do come in.’ He indicated a chair.

Manmatha sat down and asked haltingly, ‘Do you know me?’

Byomkesh sat opposite him and said, ‘Recently I have had the occasion to know your name. You wish to know about Rekha’s death?’

The young man’s voice shook slightly as he said, ‘Yes, how did she die, Byomkeshbabu?’

‘That is not known yet.’

Manmatha held Byomkesh with his unusually bright eyes and asked, ‘Do you suspect that she committed suicide?’

‘Not possible.’

‘Then, has somebody—’

‘I cannot say anything for certain as yet.’

Manmatha covered his face with both his hands and sat for a while. Then, raising his head, he said indistinctly, ‘Perhaps you have heard, Rekha and I were—’

‘Yes, I know.’

Until now Manmatha was holding onto the last vestiges of his restraint; but now he broke down and began to speak in a choked voice, ‘I have always been in love with her, ever since I used to go to their house to play, when Rekha was hardly six. Later when the marriage proposal came up, Father made things so difficult for them that the negotiations broke down. But I had decided that I would go ahead, against my father’s wishes. Father and I had a huge row over this. He said he’d throw me out of the house. Yet I...’

Byomkesh asked, ‘When did you have the row with your father?’

‘Yesterday afternoon. I said to him that I wouldn’t marry anyone other than Rekha. Who was to know that she... But why did this happen, Byomkeshbabu? Who had anything to gain by taking her life?’

Byomkesh was doodling with a pencil on the table; without looking up, he said, ‘Your father stands to gain.’

Startled, Manmatha stood up, ‘Father! No, oh no—what are you saying? Father...’ Eyes wide with terror, he looked around blankly and then stumbled out of the room without uttering another word.

I turned towards Byomkesh and saw that he was deeply engrossed in his scribbles and doodles.

We eagerly awaited the doctor’s report all through the next morning. But it did not come. Byomkesh called the police station, but they had no information either.

Around four-thirty in the evening Debkumarbabu arrived. He had left Delhi as soon as he received Habul’s telegram, and had