The next day, at nine in the morning, Byomkesh arrived at Benimadhab’s house to find Rakhalbabu standing on the front veranda, talking with Nikhil and Sanat. As Byomkesh approached, Rakhalbabu said, “Have you heard, Byomkeshda? A box has been stolen from Medini’s room—a toilet box.”

Byomkesh raised his eyebrows. “A toilet box? What? How was it stolen?”

“I can’t say for certain. But last evening, I called Medini up to the third floor…”

Byomkesh Samagra

His room was open; perhaps someone took it at that time. That’s why I was asking them if they knew anything.’

Sanat said, ‘How should I know? I have never set foot inside Medini’s room—how could I possibly know what is where?’

Nikhil said, ‘For God’s sake, Inspector-babu, I didn’t steal the toilet box. There’s no one in my room who ties up her hair and wears a bindi.’

Byomkesh asked Rakhalbabu, ‘Did you interrogate Makrand?’

‘I did. I searched their flat again, but nothing turned up.’

‘Their rooms?’

‘I’ll do that now.’ Rakhalbabu summoned a sweeper and the sub-inspectors and said, ‘Search both their rooms thoroughly again, see if you can find Medini’s hairdressing box. We’re going upstairs to Gangadhar-babu’s flat.’

Sanat, his face clouded with displeasure, said, ‘Go ahead, search as much as you want, but please don’t break my expensive cameras.’

Rakhalbabu led Byomkesh upstairs.

On the first floor, they saw at the far end of the veranda, the main door to Gangadhar’s flat open, and his daughter Jhilli stepped out, closing the door behind her. She took a few steps, saw them, and stopped, standing awkwardly.

Rakhalbabu approached her and said to Byomkesh, ‘This is Jhilli, Gangadhar-babu’s daughter. —Where were you going?’

Jhilli replied in a shy, barely audible voice, ‘Mami-ma called me.’

Byomkesh looked at Jhilli’s modest, gentle face and smiled. ‘Why are you so shy to see us? We’re not tigers or bears, we won’t bite.’

Jhilli smiled a little and looked up. Byomkesh noticed her eyes were beautiful and intelligent.

Rakhalbabu introduced him, ‘This is Byomkesh Bakshi.’

A curious light appeared in Jhilli’s eyes, and then a flush slowly spread across her face. As she tried to slip past them, Byomkesh said, ‘Jhilli, wait a moment, I have something to ask you.’

Jhilli stopped, but kept her gaze averted from Byomkesh. He asked, ‘Were you very close to Laboni?’

After a moment’s hesitation, Jhilli nodded.

‘She used to confide in you, and you in her. Isn’t that so?’

Jhilli did not reply, waiting cautiously.

‘Laboni must have told you she was in love with her dance master, Parag Laha.’

Jhilli lowered her head and murmured, ‘She did.’

‘Did she say she would elope and marry Parag?’

Jhilli’s eyes lit up with delight. ‘Laboni has married him!’

‘Yes. I see you didn’t know.’

‘No.’

‘But you’re very happy to hear it.’

Jhilli burst out laughing.

Leaving Jhilli behind, as they walked towards Gangadhar’s door, Rakhalbabu said in a low voice, ‘Your mind moves in strange, intricate ways, but I think I understand.’

Beni Sanhar

Byomkesh smiled faintly. Rakhalbabu knocked on Gangadhar’s door. Instantly, a harsh voice rang out from within—“Who is it? Come in.”

The two of them entered the room. In the middle stood a round table, and in front of it, Gangadhar sat in a chair, playing solitaire with a deck of cards. He glanced at Rakhalbabu with irritation and said, “What do you want now?”

Gangadhar’s demeanor had changed. After squandering his own fortune and becoming a burden on his father-in-law, he had withdrawn into himself like a turtle. But with his father-in-law’s death and the inevitable prospect of inheriting half the estate under the new law, he had reverted to his old self. The innate arrogance of a man from an old, aristocratic family once again colored his manners and speech.

Byomkesh’s face hardened at his tone, but when Rakhalbabu said, “This is my associate, Mr. Byomkesh Bakshi,” Gangadhar burst out in a haughty voice, “So what? So what?”

Byomkesh’s gaze sharpened. He sat down in the chair opposite Gangadhar and said, “Your name is Gangadhar Ghoshal. A few years ago, you were caught by the law for trying to bribe a jockey at the racecourse, weren’t you?”

Gangadhar’s bloodshot eyes flared as he roared, “What’s that to you?”

Byomkesh raised a finger and said, “You’re a marked man. You could be arrested on suspicion of murder. Your father-in-law was brutally killed the night before he could sign his will. Who killed him?”

It was as if a galloping horse had stumbled and crashed to the ground. Gangadhar’s snarling face crumpled; in a frightened voice, he stammered, “How should I know? How should I know?”

Byomkesh calmed a little and said, “You have a motive for killing Benimadhab Babu, and so does Ajaybabu. But you’re the son-in-law, the tenth planet.”

Twice Gangadhar opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Byomkesh then said in a gentler tone, “There’s a sword hanging over your head. Don’t get too bold.”

At that moment, Gayatri entered the room from the inner quarters. Her anchal was tied around her waist, her eyes flashed with intensity, her whole bearing was combative. She sat down in a chair and addressed Byomkesh in a sharp voice, “Tell me what you want to know.”

Byomkesh observed Gayatri for a moment before saying, “You are Benimadhab Babu’s daughter, Gayatri Devi. I have a few questions for you as well. Your father was murdered before he could sign his will. Do you know if there was any previous will?”

By now, Gangadhar had somewhat regained his composure. He interjected, “My father-in-law died intestate.”

Gayatri immediately snapped, “You keep quiet. My father left no other will. By the new law, I will get half of whatever he left behind.”

“Benimadhab Babu was a man of property. Is it possible he never made a will at his age? Perhaps an old will will turn up, one in which he left everything to someone else. Perhaps