When we climbed down eventually and went back to the main entrance to the temple, the members of the film unit had all disappeared. There were knots of local people, curious and excited. The big American car had been replaced by a jeep. An intelligent and smart looking man—possibly in his mid-thirties—saw Feluda and came forward to greet him. It turned out to be Mr Kulkarni, the manager of the Tourist Guest House. ‘We realized only this morning that Mr Bose had not returned last night,’ he said, shaking his head regretfully. ‘I sent a bearer to look for him, but of course he couldn’t find him anywhere.’ ‘What is going to happen now?’ Feluda asked. ‘The police in Aurangabad have been informed. They’re sending a van to collect the body. Mr Bose had a brother in Delhi. He’ll have to be informed, naturally. . . It is really very sad. The man was a true scholar. He came once before, in 1968. I believe he was writing a book on Ellora.’ ‘Isn’t there a police station here?’ ‘Yes, but it’s only a small outpost. An assistant sub-inspector is in charge, a man called Ghote. He’s inspecting the body at the moment.’ ‘Could I meet him?’ ‘Certainly. Oh, by the way—’ Mr Kulkarni stopped, looking doubtfully at Lalmohan Babu and me. ‘They are friends, you may speak freely before them,’ Feluda said quickly. ‘Oh. Oh, I see,’ Mr Kulkarni sounded relieved. ‘Well, someone rang Bombay this morning.’ ‘Mallik?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘What did he say?’ Mr Kulkarni took out a piece of paper from his pocket and read from it: ‘The daughter’s fine. Leaving today.’ ‘Today? Did he tell you anything about leaving today?’ ‘He did. He wanted to leave this morning. But I thought of you, Mr Mitter, and had a word with his driver. Mallik has been told there’s something wrong with his car, it’ll take a while to repair it. So he cannot leave immediately.’ ‘Bravo! Thank you, Mr Kulkarni, you’ve been a great help.’ Mr Kulkarni looked pleased. Feluda lit a Charminar and asked, ‘Tell me, what kind of a man is this Ghote?’ ‘A very good man, I should say. But he doesn’t like it here. He longs for a promotion and a posting in Aurangabad. Come with me, I will introduce you to him.’ Mr Ghote had emerged from the cave. Mr Kulkarni brought him over and introduced Feluda as ‘a very famous private detective’. Mr Ghote’s height was about five feet five inches. His width matched

his height and, to top it all, he had a moustache like Charlie Chaplin. But his movements were surprisingly brisk and agile. ‘Why don’t you go back to the bungalow?’ Feluda said to me. ‘I’ll have a word with Mr Ghote, and then join you there.’ Neither of us had the slightest wish to return without Feluda, but there was no point in arguing. So we went back. On reaching the bungalow, we realized we were both quite hungry;