We passed the night in wakefulness. Fortunately there were no disturbances. Over a cup of tea in the early hours of the morning, Byomkesh’s tongue finally loosened, and I learnt the identity of our unknown bird.

We went out at seven in the morning. Byomkesh wrapped a shawl around himself to ensure that his pistol did not attract attention.

There was no flurry of activity in the shops or on the road yet. Only a bullock cart or two, along with a horse-drawn carriage here and there, were moving about. We entered Badridas the Marwari’s mill.

He was sitting on his haunches outside his house, brushing his teeth, a jar of water by his side. He did not notice us at first, but when we came closer, his eyes began to roll like a trapped bird fluttering its wings desperately in a cage; his rustic toothbrush made of a twig slipped from his fingers.

‘You’ll have to come with us, Sethji,’ said Byomkesh.

‘Wha … at!’ asked Badridas, half-rising from his position before falling back.

‘We’re going to conduct a search,’ explained Byomkesh. ‘As an eminent citizen hereabouts, we want you as a witness.’

‘Oh no …’ he protested, taking the jar of water and retreating rapidly towards a specific destination.

We left again. It took about five minutes to reach Bishwanath Mallik’s mill.

We met chief accountant Nilkantha Adhikari near the gate. ‘So early?’ he enquired, deferentially touching his forehead with joined palms.

‘Where’s your master?’ queried Byomkesh.

‘In his room, having a cup of tea.’

‘Come, let us pay him a visit.’

‘Very well.’

Biswanath Mallik was seated at the table in his room, breakfasting on bread and butter and a half-boiled egg; his jaws ceased their mastication at our sight. An unnatural noise emerged from his throat: ‘Byomkesh-babu!’

‘We had no choice but to be here early in the morning,’ Byomkesh informed him. ‘But there is no hurry, do finish your meal.’

‘What do you want?’ slurred Bishu-babu, pushing his egg away. His gaunt face was slowly losing colour.

‘I had concluded yesterday that it would be pointless to search your mill,’ Byomkesh answered. ‘But today I feel otherwise.’

The veins on Bishu-babu’s temple began to throb—he appeared on the verge of exploding. But he restrained himself with supreme effort, and an expression resembling a smile appeared on his lips. ‘Why did you change your mind suddenly?’ he asked.

‘I have my reasons,’ responded Byomkesh. ‘I did not go to Ramdihi last evening, I was hidden near the cotton tree in that forest of yours. Three of the village lads were with me. What we saw last night has compelled me to change my mind, Bishwanath-babu.’

Bishwanatah-babu’s eyes flared for an instant. Lighting a cigarette with a shaking hand, he lazily extracted a key-ring from his breast-pocket and twirled it around his finger, asking, ‘And what if I do not allow my mill to be searched?’

‘Your willingness is irrelevant,’ said Byomkesh. ‘I have a search warrant.’