I waited for another ten minutes to see if Feluda turned up. When he didn’t, I went in and knocked on Lalmohan Babu’s door. He opened it at once and said with large, round eyes, ‘I’ve seen it all from the lobby! Don’t both those characters look highly suspicious? I wonder if they’ll go to Ellora? One of them—you know, the bearded one—might well be into ganja and other drugs.’ I nodded. ‘Jayant Mallik has also arrived and checked in,’ I told him. ‘Really? I didn’t see him. I came back to my room as soon as that hippie walked in. What does Mallik look like?’ When I described him, Lalmohan Babu grew even more excited. ‘Oh, I think he’s been given the room next to mine. I saw him arrive and something struck me as very odd. A bearer was carrying his suitcase, but it was obviously extremely heavy. The poor man could hardly move. And no wonder. Isn’t the yakshi’s head supposed to be in it?’ I could think of nothing except Feluda’s disappearance, so I said, ‘What is much more important now is finding Feluda. Never mind about Mallik’s suitcase. We’ve made no arrangements to go to Ellora. Mallik, I am sure, hasn’t come here simply to see the sights of Aurangabad. If he reaches Ellora before us, he might damage more—’ ‘What’s that?’ Lalmohan Babu interrupted me, staring at the door. I had shut it after coming into the room. Someone had slipped a piece of paper under it. I leapt and grabbed it quickly. It was another note, written by Feluda: ‘Collect all our luggage and wait outside the hotel at one-thirty. Look out for a black Ambassador taxi, number 530. Have your lunch before you leave. All hotel bills have been paid in advance.’ I ran my eyes over these few lines and opened the door. There was no one in sight. A second later, however, Jayant Mallik came out of his room and went busily towards the reception desk. He caught my eye briefly, but did not seem to recognize me. ‘He didn’t lock his room,’ Lalmohan Babu whispered. ‘There’s no one about. Shall I go in and have a look? Think of the stolen statue—!’ ‘No! We mustn’t do anything like that without telling Feluda. It’s nearly one o’clock now. I think we should both be getting ready to leave.’ Sometimes, Lalmohan Babu’s enthusiasm caused serious problems. Luckily, he agreed to restrain himself. We had a quick lunch and came out with our luggage—including Feluda’s—at one twenty-five. An empty taxi arrived in a few minutes, but it was green and had a different number. Its driver stopped it a few feet away from us. I saw him raise his arms and stretch lazily. Three minutes later, another taxi drove up to us. A black Ambassador, number 530. Its driver peered out of the window and said, ‘Mr Mitter’s party?’

‘Yes, yes,’ Lalmohan Babu replied with an important air. The driver got out