That afternoon, we arrived at the hill-fort in a police van. The three of us, and Sitaram. Pandey-ji would settle us in and then return; Sitaram would stay. Sitaram was thirty-five, lean and tall, with a dusky fair complexion, and a moustache like a hunting cat. His remarkable feature was that, dressed well, he looked every bit a gentleman, but in a loincloth, he could pass for a scullery servant without the slightest hesitation. At present, he wore a cloth down to his knees and a towel over his shoulder—in short, a rough workman’s attire. We did not travel light: bedding trunks, rice, lentils, vegetables, provisions, an Emic cooker, and who knows what else. Sitaram and Bulaki Lal began hauling the luggage into the fort. Pandey said, “Come, let’s go meet the master of the house.”

The master sat on the main veranda, his son-in-law Monilal beside him. They greeted us, mildly reproached us for arranging our own meals, and joked that city folk would never find peace in the hills and jungles. Yet his eyes remained sharp and wary.

During these pleasantries, I noticed the other residents of the house had grown quite restless at our arrival. Banshidhar and Muralidhar circled us like hawks, never coming too close. Ramapati poked his head out from inside the house, silently withdrew after seeing us. The steward Chandmohan, at the far end of the veranda, drew on his hookah and skewered us with sidelong glances. Tulsi, peering from behind a jasmine bush like a curious squirrel, darted away; a moment later, I saw her peeking from behind a pillar.

They had clearly learned that Byomkesh was a famous detective and had come to stay at the fort with some grave purpose—and were accordingly agitated. Only Gadadhar’s slow mind, it seemed, had not been roused even by such a shock; I did not see him.

As we rose to leave, Ramkishore Babu said, “Consider that you have come only to stay here—”

Durg Rahasya 311

“No, please. You are my guests; whenever you need anything, just send word.”

“Of course, of course.” We prepared to leave. The master of the house signaled, and Monilal accompanied us; his purpose was to escort us up to the fort.

As we ascended and descended the stairs, we exchanged a few words with Monilal. Byomkesh asked, “How did Ramkishore Babu come to know that I am a detective?”

Monilal replied, “I told him. I already knew your name; I’ve read books written by him. When I mentioned it, the master became quite agitated. Then, when he heard that you wanted to stay at the fort, he was visibly unsettled.”

“Why?”

“Just the other day, there was an accident—”

“So you fear that what happened to you might happen to us as well. By the way, wasn’t it your wife who also died of a snakebite?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see there are a lot of snakes in this region.”

“There are, certainly. But I’ve never actually seen one myself.”

We descended to the gateway and began to climb the stairs to the fort. Suddenly, Monilal asked, “Please don’t mind, but since you are police officers, I’m curious—did Ishan Babu really die of a snakebite?”

A quick glance passed between Byomkesh and Pandey. Byomkesh said, “Why do you ask? Do you have any doubts about it?”

Monilal hesitated, “No—but—well, you can never be sure—”

Pandey said, “What else could it be but a snake?”

Monilal replied, “That’s what I can’t figure out. I saw the marks of the snake’s fangs on Ishan Babu’s foot with my own eyes. Just like the ones on my wife’s foot.” Monilal sighed.

We had reached the fort’s gate. Monilal said, “I’ll turn back now. The master isn’t well; I don’t dare leave him alone for long. I’ll come again tomorrow morning.”

With a namaskar, Monilal departed. The sun had set. Above Ramkishore Babu’s house, the slender crescent of the second night of the waxing moon smiled slyly and slipped behind the house. We too passed through the gate and entered the grounds of the fort. Byomkesh said, “This morning I warned Dr. Ghatak about his patient; now I see it was unnecessary. Until the deed of property transfer is registered, the son-in-law Monilal will guard his father-in-law like a yaksha.”

Pandey smiled a little. “Yes—it seems they are suspicious about Ishan Babu’s death. But nothing should be said just yet.”

“No.”

We crossed the courtyard and walked toward the house. In Pandeyji’s hand was a long, pestle-shaped torch; its electric beam could reach far, and if needed, it could serve as a formidable weapon. Pandey switched on the torch and cast its light ahead, saying, “I’ll leave this with you, you might need it. Come, let’s see what arrangements have been made for your stay.”

We saw that the arrangements had been made in that same room bristling with iron spikes. Two iron cots,

Byomkesh Samagra

The table, chairs, and other pieces of furniture somewhat concealed the stark bareness of the walls. In the meantime, Sitaram had lit the lantern, spread out the bedding, set the rice to cook in the Imeek cooker, and was now heating water for tea on the stove. I was astonished at his industriousness.

Soon, steaming tea arrived before us. Taking a sip, Pandey said, “Sitaram, what did you see?”

Sitaram replied, “I’ve gone all around the fort, huzoor. There are no snakes here.”

A statement made with utter certainty. Pandey let out a sigh and said, “Well, that’s a relief.”

“Anything else?”

“Other than that, there’s no way into the fort except the stairs. Outside the walls is a sheer cliff.”

Byomkesh turned to Pandey and said, “Do you understand what this means?”

“What?”

“If any assailant wishes to enter the fort, he must come by the stairs. That is, he must pass by the gateway. Bulakilal could spot him.”

“Hm, you’re right. Bulakilal must be questioned. But it’s too late today, not tonight. —Sitaram, you needn’t