Still, Tulsi’s fear did not subside; she sat with the tense posture of a startled fawn. Byomkesh began to speak to her in a soft, friendly tone, as if to an equal. A few words of gentle teasing, stories of girls’ games, doll weddings, and other amusements—gradually, as she listened, Tulsi’s fear began to melt away. At first…

Byomkesh Samagra

After a few monosyllabic replies—‘hmm’, ‘no’—she began to speak more freely. Within fifteen minutes, an easy camaraderie had blossomed between Tulsi and us. I observed her closely: her mind was guileless, her intelligence keen; only her nerves were not sound. The slightest provocation would send her into a nervous agitation that exceeded all bounds of simplicity. Byomkesh had read her character well, and with gentle affection had drawn her in.

There is no need to recount every detail of our conversation with Tulsi; much of what we learned about their family has already been recorded. I will note down what remains.

Byomkesh asked, “The gentleman who was here, your father’s friend Ishanbabu—did you get along with him?”

Tulsi replied, “Yes. He used to tell me so many stories. He couldn’t sleep at night; many times, in the middle of the night, I’d go to him to hear his tales.”

“Is that so! The night he died—where were you that night?”

“That night, they had locked me in my room.”

“Locked you in your room? What’s this!”

“Yes. I tend to wander off at odd hours, so whenever they get the chance, they lock me in.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“Everyone. Father, elder brother, second brother, brother-in-law—”

“Who locked you in your room that night?”

“Father.”

“I see. And last night, was it your second brother who locked you in?”

“Yes—how did you know?”

“I know everything. Now, tell me something else. Your elder brother was married, do you remember your sister-in-law?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She was very beautiful. Didi was terribly jealous of her.”

“Really! Then why did your sister-in-law commit suicide?”

“I don’t know. That night, Didi had locked me in my room.”

“Oh—”

Byomkesh exchanged a glance with me. After some further conversation, Byomkesh asked, “Tell me, Tulsi, whom do you love most in this house?”

Without hesitation, with a candid face, Tulsi replied, “Mastermoshai. He loves me very much too.”

“And you don’t love Monilal?”

Tulsi’s eyes suddenly flashed—“No. Why does he envy Mastermoshai? Why does he complain about Mastermoshai to Father? If he marries me, I’ll push him off a cliff!” With that, Tulsi dashed out of the room.

The two of us sat looking at each other. At last, Byomkesh sighed and said, “Poor girl!”

Half an hour later, as I was about to get up for a bath, Ramapati peeked in at the door, his voice hesitant. “Did Tulsi come this way?”

Byomkesh replied, “Yes, she left just a little while ago. Come in—sit down.”

Durgo Rahasya 321

Ramapati sat down hesitantly.

Byomkesh said, “Ramapati, the first day we came here, you said that now the mystery of Ishan Babu’s death would be solved. That is, you believe there is a problem surrounding Ishan Babu’s death. Is that so?”

Ramapati remained silent. Byomkesh continued, “Let us assume that Ishan Babu’s death is mysterious, that someone has murdered him. Now I will ask you a few questions—answer them directly. Don’t be afraid. Imagine you are giving sworn testimony in court.”

In a faint voice, Ramapati replied, “Ask.”

Byomkesh said, “You know everyone in this house well. Tell me, is there anyone among them who is capable of murder?”

Ramapati, frightened, was silent for a while, then answered in a trembling voice, “I shouldn’t say so, I am dependent on them. But if the situation demanded it, perhaps anyone could commit murder.”

“Anyone? Ramkishore Babu?”

“Yes.”

“Banshidhar?”

“Yes.”

“Murulidhar?”

“Yes. Their natures are rather violent—”

“Nayeb Chandmohan?”

“Perhaps not. But if the master ordered it, he could have someone killed.”

“Monilal?”

Ramapati’s face darkened; clenching his teeth, he said, “He doesn’t have the courage to kill with his own hands. He only causes harm by tattling and intrigue.”

“And you? Could you not commit murder?”

“I—!”

“All right, let it be. —Did you steal the torch?”

With a bitter expression, Ramapati said, “I know I have been maligned. I know who has slandered me. But tell me yourself—if I were to steal, would I steal a mere torch?”

“So you did not steal it. —Fine, do you know that Monilal is to marry Tulsi?”

Ramapati’s face grew hard, but he replied with restraint, “I know. That is the master’s wish.”

“No one else’s wish?”

“No.”

“Not yours either?”

Ramapati stood up—“I am a burden here, what do my wishes or lack thereof matter? But if this marriage takes place, there will be an ugly scene.” Without waiting for our permission, he left the room.

Byomkesh gazed at the door for a while, then said, “The boy has courage!”

Byomkesh Samagra

In the evening, when Sitaram brought in the tea, Byomkesh said to him, “Sitaram, I need you to do something. About two years ago, a group of Bedes pitched their tents here. You must go to Bulakilal and find out who from the house used to visit the Bedes’ camp—gather as much information as you can on this.”

Sitaram replied, “Yes, huzoor. Bulakilal has gone to town with the gentlemen, I’ll ask him when he returns.”

After Sitaram left, I asked, “Why this curiosity about the Bedes?”

Byomkesh replied, “Poison! Don’t you think we need to find out where the snake venom came from?”

“Oh—”

At that moment, Pandeyji arrived. A binocular hung from his shoulder by a leather strap. Byomkesh said, “What’s this? Why the binoculars?”

Pandeyji replied, “Brought them for you, in case you need them. I couldn’t come in the morning, got caught up with work. So I set out early this afternoon. On the way, I saw Ramkishore Babu returning from town. Their engine had broken down, Bulakilal was gripping the wheel, Ramkishore