Byomkesh went out at around three-thirty in the afternoon. I had no idea where he went, or why. It was dark when he returned. I was waiting for him and so was the tea. As soon as he came in, Putiram brought in some snacks. We ate in complete silence. By force of habit, it didn’t feel right if we didn’t have our evening tea together.

Leaning back in his chair and lighting a cheroot, Byomkesh broke the silence first, ‘What kind of person did Ashubabu strike you as?’

A trifle surprised, I said, ‘Why do you ask? I thought he was a decent man—quite mild and amicable—’

Byomkesh said, ‘And his moral character?’

I replied, ‘From his animosity towards his nephew, the alcoholic, I would say he is quite upright. Moreover, he is aging. He isn’t married. He may have sown his wild oats in his youth, but this is hardly the right age for all that.’

Byomkesh smirked, ‘It may not be the right age, but that doesn’t seem to have prevented him. The house in Jorasanko where Ashubabu goes every day for some musical soirée happens to be a woman’s house. Actually, it would be wrong to say that it is her house because it is Ashubabu who pays the rent. It is also probably incorrect to call it a musical soirée— surely it takes more than two people to make a soirée.’

‘What are you saying! So the old man is quite a colourful character, eh?’

‘There’s more. Ashubabu has been supporting this lady for the last twelve or thirteen years and so there is no doubt about his fidelity. And apparently it is reciprocated because other than Ashubabu, no other music-lover is allowed admittance there—the door is strictly guarded.’

I was all agog, ‘Really! Were you trying to sneak in as a music aficionado? Did you see the lady? What does she look like?’

Byomkesh said, ‘I caught a fleeting glimpse of her. But I shall not deprive a die-hard bachelor like you of your precious night’s sleep by describing her beauty to you. In a word, she is stunning. She is perhaps twenty-six or twenty-seven years old, but doesn’t look a day over twenty. I cannot help being impressed by Ashubabu’s discriminating taste.’

I laughed as I said, ‘I can quite see that. But why have you developed this sudden interest in Ashubabu’s personal life?’

Byomkesh said, ‘Uncontrollable curiosity is one of my weak points. Besides, the question of Ashubabu’s beneficiary was bothering me.’

‘So this is Ashubabu’s beneficiary?’

‘That is my assumption. I also saw another gentleman there—in his mid-thirties—quite a dandy. He walked up to the guard, hastily tucked a letter into his hands and disappeared with equal speed. But let that be. The topic may be appetizing but is not of much use right now.’

Byomkesh stood up and began pacing the floor.

I realized that he didn’t let the discussion go any further for fear that these redundant deliberations about