The budding film star, Amar Kumar, was now a sorry sight. He had made a full confession in the car on the way back to Simla. This was made easier by the revolver in Feluda’s hand, which he had recovered soon after the drama ended. It had not taken Prabeer Babu long to come round. Lalmohan Babu, having thrown the boomerang at him, had made an attempt at nursing him by scooping up a handful of snow and plastering his head with it. I cannot tell if it helped in any way, but he opened his eyes soon enough. The driver called Arvind had also regained consciousness and was, reportedly, feeling better. He had, at first, been offered money to join Prabeer Lahiri. But when he refused to be tempted, Prabeer Babu lost his patience and simply knocked him out. Things had started to go wrong for Prabeer Lahiri ever since he was dropped from the film. It had been a long-cherished dream that he would be a famous film star one day, living in luxury, chased by thousands of admirers. When his voice let him down and this dream was shattered, Prabeer Lahiri, in a manner of speaking, lost his head. He had to get what he wanted. If it was not possible to fulfil his dream by fair means, he was prepared to adopt unfair ones. By a strange twist of fate, the Nepali box fell into his hands, like manna from heaven. In it he found a stone beautifully cut and sparkling bright. When he had it valued, it took his breath away; and his plans took a different shape. He would produce his own film, he decided, and take the lead role. No one—but no one—could have him dropped. What followed this decision was now history. We handed him over to the Himachal Pradesh state police. It turned out that Feluda’s suspicions had fallen on Prabeer Babu as soon as we had found the diamond. So he had called Dinanath Lahiri immediately on arrival in Simla, and asked him to join us. Mr Lahiri was expected to reach Simla the next day. It would then be up to him to decide what should be done with his nephew. The diamond would probably return to Dinanath Babu, since it had been found amongst his uncle’s belongings. ‘That’s all very well,’ I said, after Feluda explained the whole story, ‘but what about Shambhucharan’s travelogue?’ ‘That,’ said Feluda, ‘is mystery number two. You’ve heard of double-barrelled guns, haven’t you? This one’s a double-barrelled mystery.’ ‘But are we anywhere near finding its solution?’ ‘Yes, my dear boy, yes. Thanks to the newspapers and that glass of water.’ Feluda’s words sounded no less mysterious, so I decided not to probe any further. He, too, said nothing more.

We returned to the hotel without any other excitement on the way. A few minutes later, we were seated on the open terrace of the hotel under a colourful canopy, sipping hot chocolate. Seven