In the meantime, I could see the drawing room filling up from my vantage point near the door.

The first person to enter was Panugopal. He made his way to a corner of the room as inconspicuously as possible and took a seat. He was followed by Nepalbabu and his daughter. They took seats towards the front of the room. The scorched side of Nepalbabu’s face was turned towards me, so I couldn’t decipher his expression, but Mukul had nervousness written all over hers. She looked around a little, then muttered something under her breath to her father.

The last one to enter was Bonolokhhi. Her face looked crushed by fatigue, drained of all vitality. She was probably handling the kitchen chores all by herself. When her eyes fell on Bonolokhhi, Mukul frowned with deep distaste and looked away. Bonolokhhi faltered a little. Then slowly, she moved to the open window and stood before it, clutching the bars and staring out into the darkness.

Meanwhile, Bijoy had returned. He sank into the chair vacated by Damayanti Devi. Wiping the sweat off his brow with the edge of his shawl, he said, ‘You may as well get my statement over with too.’

‘That would be fine,’ Byomkesh replied, ‘I have very little to ask you.’

I noticed that Bijoy had recovered somewhat from his earlier discomfiture during Damayanti Devi’s interrogation. But the very first question Byomkesh directed at him caught him unawares.

‘Some time ago, there was talk of marriage between you and Nepalbabu’s daughter Mukul,’ Byomkesh stated. ‘You were open to the idea at first, but then you changed your mind. Why was that?’

‘I … my … that is my own affair,’ Bijoy stammered. ‘It has nothing to do with Kaka’s death.’

Byomkesh fixed him with a brief stare before posing a different question. ‘After returning from the city the evening before last, why did you make a second trip to Calcutta right away?’ he inquired.

‘I had some work to do,’ Bijoy replied.

‘You don’t wish to disclose what it was?’

‘That too is my own business.’

‘Bijoybabu, I have no interest in matters pertaining to your private life. You have brought us here to inquire into your uncle’s death. Now if you of all people start keeping secrets from us, what’s the point of an investigation?’

‘But I’m telling you it has nothing to do with Kaka’s death!’

‘Wouldn’t it be better,’ Byomkesh countered, ‘if we were allowed to be the judge of that?’

I could see a conflict raging in Bijoy’s mind. Finally, he conceded defeat. He said, rather unhappily, ‘Fine, then hear me out. The evening before last, I returned from Calcutta to find a letter addressed to me—an anonymous letter. It said, “You are in deep trouble. If you don’t want to come to a sorry end, wait at the tea shop in Hogg Sahib’s market tonight at ten o’clock. You will come to know much about a certain person.” This was the note that drove me there. But the writer of the note didn’t come. I waited until eleven o’clock and came back.’

‘Do you have the letter?’ Byomkesh asked him.

‘No. I tore it up.’

‘Were there any witnesses to your visit to Calcutta that night?’

‘No. I didn’t want anyone to see me leave. I stole away under cover of darkness.’

‘How did you get to the station?’ Byomkesh asked him. ‘On foot?’

‘No. The farm has a bicycle which I borrowed.’

‘Right. What could “You are in deep trouble” mean?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘The anonymous letter said that much would come to light about a certain person. Who is that person? Was there mention of a name?’

Bijoy gulped before replying, ‘No name was mentioned. I don’t know who that person could be.’

‘What made you set out for Calcutta then?’

‘I wanted to find out who had written that anonymous letter.’

‘Right. Please don’t mind my asking you this question, but was there a problem over the accounts of the shop you’d been entrusted to look after?’

Bijoy answered a trifle defiantly, ‘Yes, there was. I have a right to my uncle’s money. I took some of it.’

‘How much?’

‘I haven’t been keeping track. Two or three thousand, perhaps.’

‘And what did you do with the money?’

‘What does one do with money? I suppose I blew it up at the races.’

Byomkesh gave him a mocking smile. ‘You didn’t blow it up at the races,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I have no further questions. Ajit, please ask Bonolokhhi to come in. And if Bhujangadharbabu is there, I’d like him to come in too.’

I hadn’t noticed whether Bhujangadharbabu had arrived or not. I got up and went into the drawing room to check. Everyone looked up, intrigued. Bhujangadharbabu had come and he was standing by the door. He wore a dreamy expression and on seeing me, said with a chuckle, ‘… “Her teeth as fair as the delicate flower”.’

Taken aback, I asked, ‘What was that?’

Bhujangadharbabu’s dreaminess evaporated. He explained, ‘That’s the antidote to Mohamudgar . Have I been summoned? Come on, then.’

‘Yes, do come along.’

As I turned to Bonolokhhi, something odd happened. She had been standing by the window, her hands resting against the bars, when she suddenly screamed and fell to the floor. I ran to her. Byomkesh and Barat rushed in from the next room.

Bonolokhhi had sustained an injury on the right side of her forehead. The gash was bleeding. Byomkesh was trying to raise her to her feet. He looked up and said, ‘Doctor, your services are needed. She has fainted.’

Bhujangadharbabu came over to examine her. Looking a bit peeved, he declared, ‘It’s hardly a serious injury—nothing that warrants fainting.’

‘But how did she get hurt?’

‘How should I know? Perhaps someone aimed a pebble or something through the window and it struck her.’

Barat fished out a torch from his pocket and ran outside. Byomkesh asked Bhujangadharbabu,