Brojodas protested, ‘But … I …’

‘You may go back to the farm now,’ Byomkesh told him, ‘but there’s no need to tell the others about all that has transpired.’

‘Right, sir.’

Brojodas headed for the farm while we returned to the station. On the way, Byomkesh remarked, ‘We were wearing blinkers, it seems. It hadn’t even occurred to us that Damayanti wasn’t a common name in Bengal. And we never paused to think that a complexion so bright, along with those chiselled features, could seldom be found in this part of the country. All we surmised from the difference in their ages was that it might be a second marriage for the couple. We failed to consider the possibility of there being another angle to it. The fact that Damayanti went to the school to chat with Punjabi women didn’t arouse our suspicions either. But it most certainly should have. It is difficult to accept that at the age of forty-seven, Nishanathbabu would marry a Bengali girl of around nineteen, particularly in the Bombay region. Ajit … my grey matter is obviously on the decline. It’s time I retired from this profession and took up cattle-breeding or something similar.’

His indignation made me burst out laughing. ‘You’re welcome to do so later,’ I told him, ‘but for now, you need to solve this case. What did you infer from the information that Damayanti was not Nishanathbabu’s lawfully wedded wife?’

A miffed Byomkesh did not deign to reply.

The waiting room at the station was locked. We got the staff to open it up and went in and made ourselves comfortable. We had a coolie buy us some puris and sweets from the market to appease our hunger pangs.

Meanwhile, the clouds in the sky had gathered in a mass, occasionally releasing a few fat drops of rain that startled passers-by. It looked as though a violent storm were brewing and would unleash its fury that evening.

We stretched out on two armchairs with extended armrests. Outside, trains could be heard drawing into the platforms and pulling out. I nodded off from time to time as a subtle thread of thought teased my mind: Damayanti Devi wasn’t Nishanath’s lawfully wedded wife; she was Lal Singh’s spouse … What kind of thought processes could drive a respectable gentleman to do something of this nature? In truth, what sort of a person was Damayanti? … A tease? … A seductress? But she didn’t seem to fit any of these descriptions …

At five-thirty that evening, Barat arrived at the station in the police van. The heavily overcast sky gave the impression of imminent dusk. Clouds had covered it like a thick blanket, seeming to shut out even the slightest chink of sunlight.

Barat said, ‘I have sent Bikash to check out No. 19 Mirza Lane as you’d suggested. We’ll get some news by tomorrow.’

‘Bikash,’ Byomkesh mused, ‘well, that’s good. Is he one of your men? I mean, is he in the police force?’

‘He is, but he’s not required to be in uniform. Fine fellow, that one. Come on, let’s get going.’

We had just gulped down some tea from the stall on the platform and were about to start, when a train from Calcutta pulled in. As we looked on, Nepalbabu get off the train and strode away. He hadn’t noticed us.

‘Let him go ahead,’ Byomkesh suggested. ‘We’ll follow half an hour later.’

We returned to the waiting room and sat down. The next half hour was spent in conversation on general topics. When the appointed time arrived, we set off in the van.

As we were nearing the farm’s main gate, Byomkesh said, ‘Please have the driver stop the van right here; there’s no need to take it all the way in. Everyone gets worked up over nothing.’

The van came to a halt and we got off. It had grown very dark outside. We walked up to the farm gates and noticed that the lights were on in the room next to Nishanathbabu’s.

Byomkesh knocked on the front door. Bijoy opened it and seemed startled to see us. ‘Oh, hello, gentlemen!’ he said.

Looking in, we saw Damayanti seated on a chair. Byomkesh announced, his expression grave, ‘We need to ask Damayanti Devi a few more questions.’

As she saw us enter the room, Damayanti Devi stood up apprehensively. Her face was pallid. ‘Please don’t get up,’ Byomkesh told her. ‘Bijoybabu, do take a seat as well.’

Slowly, Damayanti Devi sank down on her chair again. Bijoy walked up to her chair and positioned himself behind it. He stood there, his eyes brimming with fear and suspicion.

We seated ourselves. Byomkesh asked, ‘Is there no one else in the house?’

Bijoy shook his head without uttering a word. Byomkesh studiously averted his gaze from the young man. He looked down instead at the nails of his right hand, examining them with interest. ‘Damayanti Devi,’ he said, ‘the other day when I interrogated you, you didn’t tell us everything. Will you do so now?’

Damayanti raised frightened eyes to his face. ‘What things?’

‘The other day,’ Byomkesh went on nonchalantly, ‘you stated that Nishanathbabu and you were married ten years ago. But we have come to know that it’s untrue. Nishanathbabu was not your lawfully wedded husband …’

Cut to the quick, Damayanti Devi wailed, ‘No, oh no! He was my husband—he was …!’ She slumped forward and her head dropped into her lap.

Bijoy snarled, ‘Byomkeshbabu!’

Byomkesh ignored Bijoy completely and continued. ‘We really did not need to pry into your private life. In different circumstances, we might have treated it with discretion. But now is not the time to remain silent. We need to know absolutely everything …’

In a voice distorted by rage, Bijoy asked, ‘What else do you wish to know?’

Byomkesh cast Bijoy a swift glance and said in a voice as harsh as a handsaw, ‘You owe us a great many explanations