Feluda rose from his chair and glanced at the assembled group. Then he poured himself a glass of water from a jug, drank some of it, and began speaking. ‘Mr Mallik is no longer with us. I am going to start by talking about him. Siddheshwar Mallik worked as a judge for thirty years before ill health forced him to retire. But it could also be that he had lost some of his faith in the entire system of law and justice. He had started to question the validity of the death penalty. I am not going to discuss whether or not he was right in thinking what he did. I am merely going to describe events as they occurred. ‘Mr Mallik used to keep diaries. There was something special about these. He used to mark the days on which he passed a death sentence by writing the name of the condemned man and putting a red cross against it. If he wasn’t entirely satisfied that his verdict was justified, he used to put a question mark against that cross. I have seen Mr Mallik’s diaries. There were six question marks, which meant he had doubts about six men. They might have been innocent, but Mr Mallik had to send them to their deaths. ‘Now I would like to draw your attention to something else. Mr Mallik expressed his doubt about the accused, but nowhere in his diaries did I find any mention of the family or friends of these men. I don’t think he ever thought about the feelings of parents or wives or children, or anyone who might have known these men closely. But it is not difficult to imagine the pain these people must have suffered. ‘As soon as I realized this, I began to wonder if Mr Mallik himself might have been murdered by one of these people, who might have felt he was responsible for the death of an innocent man. The desire for revenge can be kept alive for many years. The more I thought about it, the more likely did it seem. ‘Now, the question was: could any one among those present here be a relative or friend of a man hanged for murder, though he might not have been the real culprit? ‘Dr Majumdar could be ruled out immediately, as he had been Mr Mallik’s physician for fifteen years. This left me with four people: Mr Som, Vijay Mallik, Mr Sarkar and Prayag. Vijay could be dropped from the list since none of his friends had been sentenced to die. The same rule applied to Mr Som. So, in the end, I was left with only Mr Sarkar and Prayag. Now I’d like to ask Prayag a question.’ Prayag stood in silence. Feluda looked straight at him. ‘Prayag,’ he said, ‘when you were washing your hands in the river the other day, I saw that two letters from the English alphabet had been tattooed on your right arm: “HR”. What do these letters stand for?’ Prayag swallowed. ‘They don’t mean anything, sir,’ he said slowly. ‘I wanted to have a tattoo done on my arm. The fellow who did it put those letters there, that is all.’

‘Are you telling me that they are not your initials? Nothing to do with your name?’ ‘No, sir. My name is Prayag Mishir.’ ‘Really? Suppose I tell you it’s not? You fail to respond often enough if anyone calls you Prayag. But you’re not really deaf, are you? You can hear perfectly well at other times. Why is that?’ ‘I am called Prayag Mishir, sir. That is my name.’ ‘No!’ Feluda shouted, ‘Tell me what the “R” stands for. What is your surname?’ ‘What . . . what can I say?’ ‘The truth. This is a matter of life and death, can’t you see? Stop telling lies.’ ‘Well then, sir, you tell everyone what you know.’ ‘Very well. The “R” stands for Raaut. Now tell us your full name.’ Suddenly, Prayag broke down. ‘He . . . he was my only son, sir,’ he sobbed, ‘and he didn’t kill anyone. But the case against him was so strong, he was so cleverly framed that he had to die. My only son . . . hanged!’ ‘You still haven’t told us your name.’ ‘Hanuman Raaut. That is my real name. But. . . but I did not kill my master, nor did I steal that ring. I swear I didn’t!’ ‘Did I say you were being accused of murder and theft? All I wanted to know was your name.’ ‘Then . . . then please, sir, please forgive me.’ ‘No, Hanuman Raaut, you cannot be forgiven completely. Tell us the whole truth.’ Hanuman Raaut stared blankly at Feluda. ‘You did not kill your master, it is true,’ Feluda went on, ‘but you tried to kill someone else, didn’t you?’ ‘No, no.’ ‘Yes!’ Feluda said coldly. ‘You wanted to teach your master a lesson, didn’t you? You held him responsible for your son’s death. So you wanted him to feel the same sorrow and the same pain. Wasn’t it you who tried to kill Vijay Mallik? Didn’t you push him down the hill in Khilanmarg? You used your left hand, didn’t you, on which you wear a ring?’ ‘But . . . but he didn’t die. He is still alive!’ ‘Attempted murder, Hanuman Raaut, is a serious offence. You will not hang for murder, but what you did was utterly wrong. You cannot escape the consequences.’ Hanuman Raaut did not try to speak after this. Two constables took him away. Feluda drank some more water, then resumed speaking. ‘Let me now move on to something else. Something far more serious than what poor Hanuman Raaut did. Yes, I am talking of murder, the wilful destruction of a human life. Whoever took Mr Mallik’s life must pay for it by giving up his own. The death penalty in this case would be fully justified.’ Feluda stopped. Every eye