Four

We stood outside the main door. Ushapati Babu had followed us, the look of astonishment still lingering on his face. As he began to close the door, he said, “Please forgive us, considering our state of mind. Namaskar.”

The door was nearly shut when Byomkesh said, “What’s that?”

I had not noticed it before, but now, about a hand’s breadth above the lower threshold on the outside of the door, a golden disc gleamed. Ushapati Babu paused in the act of closing the door. The disc was slightly larger than a silver rupee. Byomkesh bent down to examine it, running his finger over it. “A tinsel disc, fastened to the door with a tack,” he said.

Straightening up, he asked Ushapati Babu, “What is this?”

Ushapati Babu replied hesitantly, “I don’t know. I don’t recall seeing it before.”

Byomkesh said, “Someone has put it here recently. If there were children in the house, it would make sense. But—perhaps you should inquire?”

Ushapati Babu called for Sahadev, who, as usual, said, “I know nothing about it, Babu.” Chumki, too, had nothing to say. Shitanshu added, “When I came home yesterday evening, it wasn’t there.”

My mind began to whirl with thoughts. Had the murderer of Satyakam left this as a clue to his identity? A challenge worthy of Harton! Such things are seen in sensational novels. But—

No clue could be found. We took our leave.

Once out on the street, Byomkesh glanced at his watch and said, “It’s not yet ten o’clock. Come on—”

Byomkesh Samagra

“Let’s take a turn by the thana.”

As we walked towards the police station, Byomkesh asked at one point, “You heard the family’s statement. What did you think?”

That very question had been circling in my own mind. I replied, “None of them seemed particularly grief-stricken.”

Byomkesh said, “There’s a proverb: ‘A little sorrow makes one faint, too much sorrow turns one to stone.’”

I said, “There may be such a proverb, but the behavior of Ushapati Babu and his wife didn’t seem natural at all. Satyakam may not have been a good boy, may well have tormented his parents with his unruliness, all that could be true. Still, he was their son. Their only son. I believe there’s something deeply wrong in this family.”

“Of course. Satyakam himself was a deep flaw. Anyway, did you understand the meaning of the tinsel disc on the door?”

“No. Did you?”

“It could be entirely accidental. But if it’s not—”

Arriving at the thana, we found that the officer in charge, Bhabanibabu, was an acquaintance. An elderly man; he was working with a cross-kent spread open on the table. He didn’t seem particularly pleased to see us. Still, after displaying the necessary courtesies, he said in a low voice, “Why are you mixed up in this again?”

Byomkesh replied, “Got caught up by a twist of fate.”

Bhabanibabu, still speaking softly as before, said, “The boy was a thorough scoundrel. Whoever killed him did the