Two

The next morning, Satyabati said, “If we’re going to Kashmir, where are the quilts and bedding?” Byomkesh replied, “Why, didn’t we have them last year in Patna?” Satyabati said, “Those all belong to your elder brothers. Do we have anything of our own? The mild winters of Calcutta are manageable, but for Kashmir, we’ll need at least two English blankets and a beaver coat for me.” “Hm. Come on, Ajit, let’s go out.” I asked, “Where are we going?” He said, “Let’s go to Suchitra Emporium. We’ll kill two birds with one stone.” I said, “Why not take Satyabati along? She can choose her own things.” Byomkesh glanced at Satyabati. In a plaintive voice, she said, “I’d love to go, but how can I? The school car will be coming for Khoka.” Byomkesh said, “You don’t need to come. I’ll pick out your things myself. Don’t worry, you won’t be disappointed.” Satyabati cast a laughing, sidelong glance at Byomkesh as she went inside, her unwavering faith in his taste evident. In truth, I had always done the shopping for Satyabati’s fashionable things. But now spring had arrived, the month of Phalgun was passing— The two of us set out. By half past nine, we reached Dharmatala Street and saw that the emporium’s...

The door stood open, the heavy curtains drawn aside from the immense glass windows. We stepped inside. It was a vast room, its mosaic floor dotted here and there with showcases displaying an array of elegant wares. A handful of customers, most of them upper-class ladies, had already arrived and were browsing. The staff stood at their stations, attending to the whims of the clientele. A distinguished elderly gentleman paced from one end of the room to the other, his watchful gaze sweeping over everything.

As we entered, the elderly gentleman approached and greeted us with respectful courtesy. “Please, come in. What may I show you?”

Byomkesh glanced about the room, his voice hesitant. “Just a small thing—two British blankets. Would you have them?”

“Certainly. This way, please.” The gentleman led us aside. “Anything else?”

“And a ladies’ beaver coat.”

“You’ll find both. Here’s the lift—upstairs you’ll get blankets and beaver coats alike.”

In the corner of the room, a small lift was ascending and descending. As we moved to stand before it, a voice called from behind, “I’ll take care of these gentlemen.”

Turning at the familiar voice, we saw Satyakam. Dressed in a silk suit, his appearance was neat and trim—he must have been in this very room all along, but his foreign attire had made him unremarkable to us until now. The elderly gentleman, seeing him, said, “Ah—very well. Take them upstairs, they want to buy British blankets and a beaver coat.” With a brief smile in our direction, he moved off elsewhere.

Byomkesh glanced quickly from Satyakam to the elderly gentleman, and asked softly, “Is he your—?”

Satyakam suppressed a smile. “Partner.”

“In other words—your father!”

Satyakam nodded in assent.

Though I had seen the elderly gentleman before, I had not truly observed him until now. He stood a little distance away, conversing with another customer, yet every so often, his gaze flickered uneasily in our direction. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man of dusky complexion, his jawline firm and pronounced. He looked to be about forty-five, with a touch of grey at his temples. Despite the practiced courtesy of a shopkeeper, there was an ascetic harshness about his face—a certain austerity. I suspected that, beneath the veneer of business, his temperament was rather stern.

At that moment, the lift descended. We stepped into its cage and arrived at the second floor.

Satyakam arched his brows at Byomkesh with a playful gesture. “Are you really here to buy something? Or is this a field investigation?”

“I intend to buy.”

The upper floor was not arranged like the one below; it resembled a storeroom more than a showroom. Yet even here, a few customers wandered about. Satyakam led us to the section for warm clothing. At his signal, an attendant brought out a variety of British blankets for our inspection. Byomkesh, in matters such as these, could hardly tell the difference between chintz and chintamani; it was left to me to select two blankets. The price was steep, but the quality was excellent.

Next, the beaver coats. Coats of every color and size—all of them exorbitantly priced. As we examined them, Satyakam remarked, “Are you thinking about the size?”

Rokter Dag 565

A beaver coat can be a little loose, it doesn’t matter. Take whichever you like, and if it’s completely unsuitable, I’ll exchange it for you.’

I was drawn to a deep purple coat, but hesitated when I saw the price tag. Satyakam, sensing my predicament, said, ‘Don’t worry about the price. That’s for regular customers. You’ll get it at the purchase price. —Come.’

He led us to the cashier and said, ‘These items are to be given at the purchase rate. Please make out the cash memo.’

‘As you wish,’ said the elderly cashier, writing out the memo. I noticed the price was nearly fifty rupees less than the tag. My spirits lifted; the impression I’d formed of Satyakam last night shifted considerably. No, whatever else he may be, the fellow is not a complete bloodsucker.

At that moment, a young woman appeared on the upper floor. Fair-skinned, youthful, her attire and manner spoke of a life of indulgence and refinement. Satyakam turned his head once to glance at her; his expression changed. With one eye narrowed, he said to us, ‘I suppose you don’t have anything else to buy? In that case—I have a new customer—well then, goodbye.’

Like a bee drawn to the scent of honey, Satyakam flew straight toward the young woman. By the time we had our purchases packed and were about to descend, we saw that Satyakam had thoroughly enchanted her; the young woman, drinking in his every word, followed him wherever he led.

Back at home,