The telephone in our room began ringing at seven the following day. We were already up, sipping our bed tea. Feluda stretched out an arm and picked it up. I heard him say only two things before he put it down. ‘What!’ he said, and ‘I’ll be ready in five minutes.’ Then he turned to me and added, ‘Go and tell Lalmohan Babu to get ready. We have to go out at once.’ I did as I was told without asking questions. Where were we going? No one told me, until a couple of police jeeps arrived again, and we were told to get into the first one with Inspector Saha. It turned out that the constable who had gone to Nayanpur Villa early this morning to tell them about the meeting had learnt that Samiran Majumdar had received a phone call only fifteen minutes before the constable’s arrival. He had left for Siliguri, apparently on some urgent work. Since Feluda felt there would be no point in having the meeting without him, we were on our way to see if our jeep might catch up with his vehicle. I had never been driven at such speed on a winding, hilly road. Luckily, the driver seemed to be extremely skilful, and there was no mist today. We passed Ghoom, Sonada and Tung in half an hour. Normally, it would have taken us at least forty-five minutes. Inspector Saha had sent word to Kerseong and Siliguri, but it had not been possible to give the number of the taxi in which Samiran Babu was travelling. Trying to find its number would have taken up a lot of time, Inspector Saha said. We reached Kerseong fairly soon, but there was no sign of Samiran Majumdar’s taxi. ‘Take the short cut through Pankhabari,’ Inspector Saha said to the driver. Our jeep left the main road. The other one went ahead, following the regular route. It is impossible to describe just how winding the road to Pankhabari was. Lalmohan Babu shut his eyes, and said, ‘Let me know if you see the taxi. I’m not going to open my eyes if I can help it. I’d feel sick if I did.’ Fifteen minutes later, after going up a road that coiled itself like a snake round the hill, we came round a hairpin bend. Our driver pressed his foot hard on the brake, for there was a taxi standing almost in the middle of the road. Its driver was trying to change a punctured tyre, and Samiran Majumdar was standing some distance away, smoking impatiently. He seemed both startled and apprehensive at the sudden appearance of our jeep. All of us got out. Feluda and Inspector Saha strode ahead. ‘What . . . what is it?’ Samiran Babu asked, turning visibly pale. ‘Nothing,’ Feluda replied, ‘it’s just that there’s going to be a meeting in your own house at ten this morning. We feel you must be present there, and really it’s far more important than the one you set off to attend. So could you please pay your taxi driver, and join us? Don’t forget your suitcase.’ In three minutes, we were on our way back to Darjeeling. No one spoke on the way.

By the time we reached Nayanpur Villa, it was a quarter to ten. ‘Since Lokenath is still missing, could you please ask your other servant, Bahadur, to make coffee, for at least a dozen people?’ Feluda asked. We went to the drawing room. More chairs had been brought from the next room. The team from the Mount Everest Hotel arrived almost as soon as Bahadur came in with the coffee. Pulak Ghoshal looked openly surprised. ‘What on earth’s the matter, Laluda?’ he asked. ‘Haven’t got a clue. Your guess is as good as mine. But the purpose of this meeting is to throw light on everything that’s been baffling us since the murder. Mr Pradosh Mitter is in charge of the lighting.’ ‘Good. Can we start shooting again?’ ‘I couldn’t tell you. Just be patient, all will be revealed soon.’ ‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed. I’ve been directing films for twelve years, and finished making seventeen films in that time; but never before have I got involved in something so messy.’ I felt sorry for Pulak Babu. The total budget for his film had originally been 5.6 million rupees. God knows how much they’d finally end up spending if the shooting kept getting delayed. Everyone found chairs and sat down, looking distinctly uneasy. I glanced briefly at the whole group. Feluda was sitting on my left, and Lalmohan Babu on my right. The others, including Mr Saha and Samiran Majumdar, were scattered all over the room. Bahadur and the cook, Jagadish, were also present. Four constables stood near the door. We finished our coffee. A rather attractive clock on a shelf chimed ten times. Feluda stood up as soon as the last note faded away. He was the only one in the room who appeared perfectly calm. Even Inspector Saha was cracking his knuckles occasionally. Feluda cleared his throat and began speaking. ‘In the last few days, a few mishaps have occurred in this house. Perhaps they would not have happened if the usual routine of the house hadn’t been upset totally by the arrival of the film unit. Most people had their attention taken up by the shooting, so it became easier for the culprit to do what he wanted. ‘The first among the tragedies was the death of Mr Birupaksha Majumdar, the owner of this house. His death struck me as very mysterious. It seemed obvious to everyone that his bearer, Lokenath, had killed him to steal a valuable statue, and disappeared the same afternoon. But I could not accept this. I am going to explain the reason in a few minutes. Before I do so, I’d like to tell you two things involving the deceased. ‘The first is related to embezzlement of funds. While Mr Majumdar