I was awakened by a clamouring noise in my head. Day hadn’t dawned yet. It felt like someone was banging on a metal disc right next to my ear. A few days ago, another such jangling summons had dragged us from sleep.

I could not bring myself to linger in bed this morning. Striding swiftly into the next room, I found Byomkesh answering the telephone call. I sat down on the cot next to the instrument and listened to the audible end of the conversation.

‘Hello, Bijoybabu … what?’ I heard Byomkesh say. ‘Dead! When? What happened? … Yes, I can come over, but what’s the use of going now? Why don’t you give Inspector Barat a call instead, and he’ll make the arrangements … Yes, absolutely! An autopsy is a must and the bottle of medication has to be sent in for examination … Right …’

Byomkesh hung up and sat down in an armchair. The question that was bubbling on my lips burst forth: ‘Who was it? Who has died?’

Cobwebs of a nightmare seemed to hang over Byomkesh’s face. He rubbed his hand over his eyes as though to wipe it away. He said, ‘It’s Panugopal. His body was discovered just a while back. He had probably applied some medicine to his ears, because the unscrewed bottle was found next to him. The medicine had been poisoned and the stinging sensation of the poison had made him rush outside, where he fell from the top of the stairs. That’s where he died. It’s my fault. I should have realized that if Panu really knew something of crucial importance, his life would be in danger. Why didn’t I take preventive measures? Why didn’t I bring him home with me yesterday? But yesterday Bijoy had remarked that Panu was an idiot and that, perhaps, he really didn’t have very much to say. My mind was swayed by that logic …’

Byomkesh suddenly fell silent. A new suspicion had raised its ugly head while he was chastising himself and he covered his face with his hands.

The morning crept in slowly. Putiram came in with the tea. But Byomkesh didn’t touch it. Neither did he light a single cigarette. He lay in the armchair, as if in a stupor, a hand sheltering his face.

My heart was heavy. Nature had afflicted poor Panugopal with a congenital defect, but his mind had been sound. He was also capable of deep gratitude. Nishanathbabu had been fond of him and I too, had grown to like him. The news of his painful death continued to torment me.

At noon, Byomkesh got up in silence and had his bath and his lunch. Then he switched on the fan and stretched out on the bed. I knew he hadn’t done so for a quick nap. He held himself responsible for Panugopal’s death and needed solitude so that he could come to terms with it. Moreover, he was desperate to unmask the shrouded assassin who had