It began pouring soon after twelve o’clock. The rain was accompanied by frequent thunder. Lalmohan Babu and I sat in our room trying—in vain—to work out what possible role we might have to play later in the day. Mallik had been arrested, the yakshi’s head was safely locked away. As far as we were concerned, that was the end of the story. What else could Feluda be thinking of? The chowkidar told us at one o’clock that lunch was ready. We went into the dining hall without Feluda. He was probably having lunch with Mr Kulkarni in the guest house. Mr Raxit joined us. He had seemed extremely cross this morning when we had spoken to him, but now he appeared cheerful once more. ‘On a day like this,’ he said, ‘a Bengali ought to have kedgeree, pakoras and fried hilsa. I have lived out of Bengal for many years, but haven’t forgotten Bengali habits.’ The meal we were served here was different, but no less tasty. I finished my bowl of daal, and had just helped myself to the meat curry, when a car drew up outside the front door and a thin, squeaky voice cried: ‘Chowkidar!’ The chowkidar rushed out, clutching an umbrella. Mr Raxit soaked a piece of his chapati in the curry, put it in his mouth and said, ‘A tourist? In this weather?’ A tall man walked in, taking off his raincoat. Most of his hair was grey. He had a short moustache and goatee, and he wore glasses. ‘I’ve already had my lunch,’ he told the chowkidar, who was carrying his aged leather suitcase. Then he turned to us and asked, ‘Who has been arrested?’ Feluda had told us not to say anything about Mallik’s arrest, so we simply stared foolishly. Mr Raxit gave a start and said, ‘Arrested?’ ‘Yes. Some vandal. He was apparently trying to steal a statue from one of the caves, and was caught. At least, that’s what I’ve just heard. I only hope they won’t decide to close the caves because of this. I’ve travelled quite far simply to see the statues here. Why, haven’t you heard anything?’ ‘No.’ ‘Anyway, I’m glad the fellow was caught. I must say the police here are quite efficient.’ The man was given the third empty room. He disappeared into it, but we could hear him talking to himself. Perhaps he was slightly mad. The rain stopped at around two-thirty. Half an hour later, I saw the new arrival walking towards the eucalyptus trees. He came back in five minutes. The chowkidar brought us our tea at four-thirty. I noticed a small piece of paper on the floor as he left. It turned out to be another message from Feluda: ‘Go to cave number fifteen at seven o’clock. Wait in the south-eastern corner on the first floor.’ He was still running a campaign, totally unseen. This had never happened before. Fortunately, it did not rain again. When we left the bungalow at six-thirty,