We came out of the rest house and found our taxi at five-thirty the following morning. Joginder was ready and waiting for us. Pavandeo’s American car was standing near ours, being loaded with film equipment. He could not possibly leave for another half an hour. But the chances were he would catch up with us without any problem, and then overtake us. As we were about to get into our car, the man himself came striding towards us, as though he had something important to say. ‘Last night,’ he said to Feluda, ‘Mr Giridhari had a glass too many, and revealed your identity. I’d like to ask you a straight question.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Did Umashankar send you here to keep an eye on me?’ ‘Even if he did, Mr Singh, I would certainly not tell you about it, for that would be a breach of confidentiality. It would also be rather foolish. However, I have to admit Mr Puri has nothing to do with my presence here. We are going to Kedarnath purely as tourists. If something untoward does happen, I will naturally not stand by and be a passive spectator. I would like to meet Bhavani Upadhyaya myself, for something special has made me immensely curious about him, although I am not at liberty to tell you what it is.’ ‘I see.’ ‘May I now ask you a question?’ ‘Sure.’ ‘Are you going to show that famous pendant in your film?’ ‘Of course, assuming that Upadhyaya has still got it with him.’ ‘But don’t you realize that will put his life at risk? At the moment, nobody knows he has got something so valuable; but your film will be seen by thousands. Do you think it’s fair to expose his secret like that?’ ‘Mr Mitter, if he has truly become a sanyasi, that locket should have no meaning for him. I will ask him to give it to a museum. It originally belonged to the Maharaja of Travancore. Its workmanship is absolutely exquisite. If he donates it to a museum, Upadhyaya’s name will always be remembered. You bet I am going to show it in my film, and I hope you will not try to stop me.’ Pavandeo stormed off, having spoken the last few words with a great deal of emphasis. Mr Bhargav joined us as soon as he left. ‘I wish I had known you were also going to Kedar,’ he said. ‘I could have gone with you, and shared the information I’ve got regarding Upadhyaya.’ ‘Really? Who—or what—is the source of your information?’ ‘Well, I spoke to Mr Singh’s brother, Surajdeo, in Rupnarayangarh. But the interesting details came from their eighty-year-old bearer. He said Upadhyaya had treated the former Raja Chandradeo Singh,

and cured him of asthma.’ ‘I see.’ ‘In order to show his appreciation, the Raja gave him one of his most precious pieces of jewellery. Nobody outside the family knew of this until now. Can you imagine what this will mean to the press? Oh, what a story! What a scoop!” ‘Good for you, Mr Bhargav. You’ll be able to make a lot of money out of this, won’t you?’ ‘Maybe. But I can tell you one thing, Mr Mitter. That locket is not going to remain with Upadhyaya for long. Do you really think Pavandeo is here just to make a telefilm? Don’t be surprised if your professional skills are soon called for.’ ‘It wouldn’t surprise me, Mr Bhargav. I always keep myself ready for any eventuality.’ Mr Bhargav said goodbye and left. ‘A clever man!’ Lalmohan Babu observed. ‘All good reporters and journalists are clever. They have to be, for in their job they often have to do a bit of detective work. He has shown a lot of initiative by interviewing an old retainer. Sometimes servants come to know of things that their masters are blissfully unaware of. But even so . . .’ Feluda broke off. ‘Even so, what?’ I prompted. I could see something was bothering him. ‘I don’t know. Something in that man makes me uneasy. I just can’t put my finger on it.’ We finally got into our car and started our journey. The road ran by the side of Alakananda. Only a few minutes later, we entered a tunnel. When we emerged from it, the river had changed. It was now Mandakini that flowed by our side, and it would stay with us right up to Kedarnath, which was where its source was supposed to be. Feluda was still frowning. His next words explained why he was so annoyed. ‘I am very cross with that man Giridhari. I had no idea he was so utterly irresponsible. What Pavandeo just told me was, I suppose, natural enough, coming from him. But it shows he and Umashankar Puri did not talk about Upadhyaya’s pendant after Mr Puri returned from Calcutta. Now, if that is the case, why did he send me that telegram and the letter? The whole thing seems even more mystifying now. God knows who is telling the truth, and who can be trusted. I am only glad we didn’t drop our decision to come here, even if we did agree to drop Mr Puri’s case.’ Gaurikund was only 80 km from Rudraprayag; but the road went up and down the hills so frequently that it took much longer to get there than one might expect. Thirty kilometres from Rudraprayag stood Agastyamuni, at 900 metres. Guptakashi was 9 km from there, standing at 1800 metres. From there one had to go to Son Prayag, where Son Ganga joined Mandakini. Gaurikund was 8 km from Son Prayag. Its elevation was 2250 metres. Our woollen clothes were packed into a small bag which we had taken with us. Our heavy luggage was in the rest house, waiting to be collected on the way back. Lalmohan Babu had not forgotten to bring his Rajasthani cap to protect his bald dome. We stopped briefly in Agastyamuni to slip our warm clothes