The Mystery of the Fort

“Ramkishore-babu, you are becoming far too agitated—this is not good for your health. Let us end this conversation for today; we can continue another time.”

Ramkishore-babu, regaining a measure of composure, replied, “No, Doctor, this matter cannot be postponed. Today I am here, tomorrow I may not be—I want to settle all affairs before I go. Himanshu-babu, you have heard how I wish to arrange my property; there is no need for further discussion. Please begin preparing the documents. The sooner the deeds are registered, the better.”

“Very well, so it shall be. Let us take our leave for today, then.” Himanshu-babu rose to his feet. Only then did everyone notice that the three of us had been standing near the doorway, silent and unmoving, like figures in a tableau.

Ramkishore raised his brows and called out, “Who is there?”

Pandey stepped forward and said, “It is I. Two friends from Calcutta have come to visit; I brought them to see the fort.” He introduced Byomkesh and myself by name.

Ramkishore greeted us warmly. “Come, come. Please, be seated.” Yet it seemed he had not heard Byomkesh’s name before.

Banshidhar and Muralidhar took their leave. Dr. Ghatak, upon seeing us, appeared momentarily surprised and a little embarrassed, but then raised his hand in greeting. After exchanging a few words with the doctor, the lawyer Himanshu-babu departed with him. Left in the room were the three of us, and on the other side, Ramkishore-babu, his steward Chandmohan, and his son-in-law Monilal.

Ramkishore called out, “Who’s there? Bring some light, and prepare tea.”

Chandmohan replied, “I’ll see to it—” and got up to leave. Chandmohan was dark-skinned and thin, but his eyes gleamed with cunning. As he left, he cast a long, searching sidelong glance at Byomkesh.

A few words of polite conversation followed. Ramkishore’s manner with outsiders was gentle and gracious. Then Byomkesh said, “I hear that Ishan-babu died here from snakebite. I knew him once—I was his student.”

“Is that so!” Ramkishore looked at Byomkesh with startled eyes. “My eldest son as well— What can I say, Ishan was the friend of my soul, a friend from childhood. That he should come to my house and die in such an accident—I shall never live down this shame.” From his tone, it seemed he was unaware of any suspicion regarding the cause of death.

Byomkesh, expressing sympathy, said, “A most tragic affair. Was he also your brother’s friend?”

Ramkishore, after a brief silence, replied with a touch of emphasis, “Yes. But my brother passed away nearly thirty years ago.”

“Oh—so in recent times, it was you with whom he was close. Tell me, before he came here this time, who in this house knew him? You did. And—?”

“And my steward Chandmohan knew him.”

“Your driver is an old hand—didn’t he know him as well?”

“Yes, Bulaki Lal knew him.”

“And your eldest son, perhaps, was also his student?”

Clearing his throat, Ramkishore said, “Yes.”

As this conversation unfolded, I turned my attention to the son-in-law, Monilal, who was at that moment absorbed in his meal.

Byomkesh Samagra

Like a housecat sitting by its master’s plate, eyes shifting from the food to the face and back again, Monilal’s gaze moved between Byomkesh and Ramkishore as the conversation progressed. In the half-light, his expression was hard to read, but there was no doubt he was listening with rapt attention.

Byomkesh asked, “A gold mohur was found clenched in Ishan Babu’s fist. Can you say where it might have come from?”

Ramkishore shook his head. “No. It’s a most curious thing. Ishan’s financial situation wasn’t good. He certainly wasn’t in a position to be carrying around gold coins.”

“Is it not possible he found it somewhere in the fort?”

Ramkishore considered. “Possible. Many of my ancestors’ jewels and gold were stored in that fort. When the sepoys came to loot, it wouldn’t be strange if a coin or two got scattered here and there. If that’s the case, then the mohur is my property.”

Byomkesh said, “If it was your property, wouldn’t Ishan Babu have returned it to you? As far as I know, he wasn’t the sort to appropriate someone else’s belongings.”

“That’s true. But poverty can corrupt a man’s nature. Besides, perhaps he was bitten by the snake at the very moment he found the coin. The poor fellow didn’t get the chance.”

Just then, a servant brought in a kerosene lamp and set it on the table. Another servant appeared with a tray of tea and refreshments, which he offered to us. We politely declined the food and each took a cup of tea.

Sipping his tea, Byomkesh remarked, “There’s no electric light here? I suppose Ishan Babu also used a kerosene lantern at night?”

Ramkishore replied, “Yes. Though about a week before his death, he borrowed an electric torch from me. After his death, everything else was found—except that torch.”

“Is that so? Where did the torch go?”

At last, Monilal spoke, his tone grave. “I believe that the morning after the incident, someone took the torch in the confusion.”

Pandey asked, “Who could have taken it? Do you suspect anyone?”

Monilal opened his mouth to answer, but Ramkishore interrupted, “No, no, Moni, that’s a mistaken notion. Ramapati didn’t take it. If he had, he would have admitted it.”

Monilal fell silent, lips pressed tight. I understood then that the matter of the missing torch had been discussed before, and that Monilal suspected Master Ramapati. It was a small hint of familial discord and discomfort.

After finishing our tea, we rose to leave. Byomkesh said, “By this chance, I’ve had the good fortune to make your acquaintance. You’ve built a house in a beautiful place. Once here, one hardly wishes to return.”

Ramkishore, pleased, replied, “Well then, why not stay a couple of days? But after two days, you’ll be desperate to escape. We’re used to it, that’s why we can bear it.”

Byomkesh