Although the traffic was not likely to be heavy at that time of night, we left a little before nine, giving ourselves more than an hour to reach Barasat. We had our dinner before leaving, which felt slightly strange because none of us was used to eating so early. ‘If we start to feel peckish a little later,’ Lalmohan Babu observed, ‘we can always go to that sweet shop where Mr Datta is meeting us. I’m sure they’ll have kachauris and aloo-sabzi.’ Lalmohan Babu’s driver was greatly excited on being told why we were returning to Barasat. Luckily for us, he was a great admirer of Feluda, and quite fond of watching action-packed Hindi films. Any other driver would have been cross at being told to drive out of town late at night. But Lalmohan Babu’s driver, Haripada, seemed to get new life in his tired limbs when Feluda explained the situation. When we reached VIP Road, Lalmohan Babu decided to burst into song. ‘Everyone has gone to the wood, on this moonlight night . . .’ he began, but one look from Feluda stopped him immediately. The sky was totally dark. There was no sign of the moon. But it was a clear night. Perhaps the faint light from the stars would be of some use. In accordance to Feluda’s instructions, I was wearing a dark shirt; and Lalmohan Babu had put on Feluda’s raincoat over his light yellow pullover. Although it wasn’t possible to see it in the car, I knew that when he got out, one of his pockets would hang heavy under its load. He had borrowed the iron rod of Srinath’s hand-grinder and stuffed it into his pocket. Feluda, too, was armed, but not with an iron rod. In his jacket pocket lay his Colt revolver. We reached the crossing just before ten. Mr Datta was standing in front of a paan stall next to the sweet shop. Haripada stopped the car. Mr Datta got in swiftly, and said, ‘Please take the next right turn.’ Only a few minutes later, the number of houses grew appreciably less. The streetlights disappeared. I realized we had left the town of Barasat behind us and were in the country. ‘The first indigo factory was built in Barasat,’ Mr Datta told us. ‘If you ever come this way in daylight, you’ll be able to see broken old houses in which the British owners of these factories used to live.’ We drove in silence for another twenty minutes. Then, suddenly, Mr Datta said, ‘Here we are. Stop the car.’ Our car came to a halt. All of us trooped out. ‘Please tell your driver to wait here with the car. I’ll show you where Sadhu Dastidar has asked me to meet him. Then your car can take me home, and come back here. I’ll make my own way to the right place just before eleven.’ Lalmohan Babu gave some money to his driver, and said, ‘Get yourself something to eat