‘Hmm. Any other possibilities?’

Byomkesh laughed and said, ‘The photographer, Nakuleshbabu himself, could be behind the theft.’

‘What would be his reason?’

‘So that his photograph would sell more copies.’ Byomkesh continued to chuckle.

‘Do you really think that is possible?’

‘Nothing is impossible for a businessman. In America, they burn their foodgrains to make the prices rise artificially.’

‘All right. Anyone else?’

‘Perhaps there is someone in that group there, who wants to erase all traces of his existence...’

‘You mean someone with a criminal record?’

At this point, there was a soft knock on our door. I went and opened it. Professor Shome stood there, wearing a warm dressing gown. We received him cordially. Ever since our arrival here, he came down every evening at around this time to ask how we were doing. We would chat for a while; then he would go back, when it was time for dinner. His wife had also come down a couple of times. But she didn’t seem too keen to get to know Satyaboti; the indifference was duly reciprocated by Satyaboti.

Shome came in and took a seat. I offered him a cigarette and lit one myself. This was my only chance of getting to smoke in Byomkesh’s presence; he couldn’t yell at me in front of a guest.

Shome asked us, ‘So what did you think of our little party?’

Byomkesh replied, ‘Quite nice. Interesting people, easy to get along with.’

Shome took a drag on his cigarette and said, ‘It always seems like that from a distance. But you don’t need me to tell you that. Mrs Bakshi, tell me, out of all the people that you met today, who did you like the most?’

Without a shred of hesitation, Satyaboti replied, ‘Rajani. She has a sweet nature and I have really taken to her.’

A slight blush spread across Shome’s face. Satyaboti didn’t notice it and continued, ‘She’s as pretty as she’s sweet. And she is very intelligent, too. Tell me, why is Mahidharbabu not doing anything to get his daughter married yet—he has enough money...’

Suddenly, a shrill voice shrieked out from the doorway, startling all of us. ‘Widow! She’s a widow! Which Hindu boy would marry a widow?’

None of us was aware that Malati Devi had come and stood at the door. The news was as unexpected as was the appearance of its bearer. Astounded, we all looked at Malati Devi. She swept her vicious eyes over us and spoke again, ‘Don’t you believe me? He knows, ask him. Everyone here knows about it. Only a widow who has lost all sense of decorum would go about pretending to be unmarried. But then, what would a brazen one like her know of shame? All her fancy airs—all meant to trap other men. ‘ Malati Devi went back as suddenly as she had come in. The sound of her marching footsteps echoed on the stairs.

Professor Shome was affected the most by this unseemly exhibition. He was too mortified to meet our eyes. Silence hung in the room for a few minutes. Eventually, he raised harassed eyes and spoke in a low voice, ‘I apologize to you all. Sometimes, I wish I could just run away somewhere... ‘ His voice petered out into silence.

Calmly, Byomkesh asked, ‘Is Rajani truly a widow?’

Shome answered, speaking slowly, ‘Yes. She became one at fourteen years of age. Mahidharbabu had given his daughter in marriage to a brilliant student of the university. Two days after the wedding, he set off for England; Mahidharbabu sponsored his son-in-law’s trip abroad. But the poor fellow did not make it to England; on the way, he died in an air crash. For all intents and purposes, you could say that Rajani is practically unmarried.’

For a while, no one said anything. I passed another cigarette to Shome and struck a match to light it. Shome lit his cigarette and said, ‘My domestic circumstances are no secret to you all. The story of my life is, in many ways, similar to Mahidharbabu’s son-in-law’s. I was born in a poor family and was a bright student. After marriage, my father-in-law sponsored my studies abroad. But the rest of the story was different in my case. I completed my education and came back home to take up teaching. But I couldn’t do it for very long. I quit my job and came and settled down here. Since then, I have been sitting idle—for seven years now. There is no dearth of creature comforts in my life—my wife has plenty of money.’ The bitterness within spilled into his words.

A little hesitantly, I asked, ‘Why did you quit your job?’

Shome rose to leave and said, ‘In shame! In the age of women’s liberation, it wasn’t possible to lock my wife into the house, and yet... Sometimes I wonder, how much more convenient it would have been for everyone if I had died in the air crash instead of Rajani’s husband.’

Shome proceeded towards the door. Byomkesh called out, ‘Professor Shome, if you don’t mind, I have a question. Where is your copy of the group photograph that was taken at the picnic?’

Shome turned around and said, ‘My wife tore it into bits. You see, I was standing beside Rajani in that picture.’

Dragging his footsteps, Shome went back upstairs.

There wasn’t much conversation at dinner that night. At one point, Satyaboti suddenly said, ‘Whatever anybody says, Rajani is a very nice girl. She was widowed in her childhood and I don’t see anything wrong with her father wishing that she’d dress well like any young woman.’

Byomkesh looked at Satyaboti, and then, in an indifferent tone, he said, ‘Today, at the tea-party, I observed something that both of you probably missed. When Mahidharbabu broached the subject of the theft, all eyes were on him. I noticed that Dr Ghatok was standing at a distance and Rajani sidled up to him and slipped a folded