I knew Feluda would agree to take the case. He had recently started to record conversations with his clients on a microcassette recorder, which he had bought in Hong Kong. With Mr Puri’s permission, his conversation with Feluda had been recorded as well. In the afternoon, Feluda played the whole thing back and listened to every word carefully. Then he switched the machine off and said, ‘This case is quite different from what I usually get. That is reason number one why I think I ought to take it. Reason number two is the chance to visit Haridwar and Hrishikesh again. After all, isn’t that where I spent some of my early days as a detective?’ Yes, indeed. How could I ever forget it was in Haridwar that the case of the stolen Emperor’s ring took a new turn? He rang Mr Puri and told him of his decision. Mr Puri returned in just half an hour and paid him his advance. When he had gone, Feluda spoke to our travel agent and told him to book three seats on the Doon Express, as soon as possible. Two days later, something totally unexpected happened. Mr Puri sent us a telegram from Rupnarayangarh. It said: REQUEST DROP CASE. LETTER FOLLOWS. Drop case? Why? No client had ever done this to us before. A couple of days later, Mr Puri’s letter arrived. What it said briefly was that Pavandeo Singh had changed his mind. He would still find and interview Bhavani Upadhyaya, but would only show how he spent his time treating the sick. He would mention that Upadhyaya had once treated and cured the Raja of Rupnarayangarh, but would say nothing about the pendant. There was therefore no need for Feluda to travel all the way to Haridwar. Feluda replied to Mr Puri by sending another telegram: DROPPING CASE, BUT GOING AS PILGRIMS. His curiosity had been aroused. He would go simply as a tourist all right, but would certainly keep his eyes and ears open. To be honest, I was very pleased by this, for I wanted to meet both Bhavani Upadhyaya and Pavandeo. All this had happened a few days ago. We were, at this moment, sitting in a four-berth compartment of the Doon Express. The train had stopped at Faizabad, and we were sipping hot tea from clay pots. ‘You said you had once visited Haridwar,’ Feluda said to Lalmohan Babu. ‘When was that?’ ‘Oh, when I was only a child, just about two years old. I have no memory of the place at all.’ ‘Are you going only to Haridwar, or do you intend to see other places as well?’ This question came from our fellow passenger, an elderly gentleman who was sitting next to Lalmohan Babu. His thin hair was mostly white, but his skin wasn’t wrinkled, and his strong white teeth appeared to be his own. There were a few laughter lines around his eyes, and from the way his eyes twinkled, it seemed he