The next four days passed quickly. We saw the various sights of Srinagar. Lalmohan Babu, who had brought a Hotshot camera, started taking photos of almost everything he saw. Then he took his finished roll to the local branch of Mahatta & Co. and had it developed. The photos had come out pretty well, I had to admit, but when Lalmohan Babu called his effort ‘highly professional’, I could not agree with him. Mr Mallik and his party accompanied us one day to see Nishad Bagh, Shalimar and Chashma Shahi. This gave us the chance to get to know him better. ‘Sushant tells me you are interested in seances,’ he said to Feluda. ‘Is that true? Do you believe in such things?’ ‘I have an open mind on the subject,’ Feluda replied. ‘I have read a lot on spiritualism. Plenty of well-known and learned people have said it is possible to contact the dead. So I see no reason to scoff at the whole idea without examining it thoroughly. However, I am fully aware of the fraud and deception that often takes place in this particular area. It all depends on the genuineness of the medium, doesn’t it?’ ‘Dr Majumdar is a first rate medium. Why don’t you come and watch us one day?’ ‘I’d like to, thanks. May I bring my cousin and my friend?’ ‘Sure. I have no objection to anyone, provided they have enough faith. Why don’t you come to our boat this evening? Do you know what kind of people I am trying to contact?’ ‘People you sentenced to death?’ ‘Yes. I want to find out if my judgement was wrong at any time. So far there’s been no such indication.’ ‘Do you speak to just one dead person at a session?’ ‘Yes. The doctor finds it quite strenuous to handle more than one.’ ‘What time should we call on you?’ ‘Ten o’clock at night. We could all sit down together after dinner. There shouldn’t be any noise at that time.’ We went over to Mr Mallik’s boat straight after dinner. Five chairs had been arranged around a table in the living room. We took our seats and got to work without wasting another minute. ‘Tonight,’ Mr Mallik told us, ‘we shall try to speak to a Bihari boy called Ramswarup Raaut. He was hanged for murder ten years ago. Despite certain misgivings and doubts, I passed the sentence because the jury found him guilty, and the murder had been a brutal one. But in these ten years, I have often wondered if I had made a mistake. Did I send an innocent man to his death? The case against him had been very cleverly prepared and it seemed he was indeed the culprit, yet . . . anyway, are you ready, doctor?’ ‘Yes.’

All the curtains had been drawn. The room was totally dark. To my right sat Feluda, and on my left was Lalmohan Babu. To Feluda’s right Mr Mallik was seated and beside him was Dr Majumdar, who completed the circle. ‘Ramswarup Raaut was only nineteen,’ Mr Mallik went on. ‘His features were sharp, his complexion fair. He had a thin moustache. The deceased had been stabbed to death in a small alley in Calcutta. Raaut did not look like a vicious killer. You must try to picture him and concentrate on the image. I will ask the questions; the answers will come in Raaut’s voice, through Dr Majumdar.’ We sat in silence for fifteen minutes. Then, suddenly, I felt the table move. The movement increased, until it began to rock violently. We waited with bated breath. A minute later, Mr Mallik asked his first question: ‘Who are you?’ ‘My name is Ramswarup Raaut.’ Dr Majumdar spoke. But his voice sounded totally different. I gave an involuntary shiver. Mr Mallik went on, ‘Were you hanged in 1977?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Are you aware that I was responsible for the sentence passed on you?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Did you kill that man?’ ‘No.’ ‘Who did?’ ‘Chhedilal. He was a most cunning man. He framed me. The police arrested me, not him.’ ‘I could tell when I saw you in court that you could not have planned a murder like that. Yet, I had to pass the death sentence on you.’ ‘There’s no point in worrying about it now.’ ‘Can you forgive me?’ ‘Oh yes. I can forgive you easily. But many of my relatives and friends are still alive. They may continue to hold you responsible for my death.’ ‘I am not concerned with them. It’s your forgiveness that matters.’ ‘Then you have it. Death wipes out anger, jealousy, desire for revenge—everything.’ ‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’ Mr Mallik rose and switched on the lights. Dr Majumdar appeared to be unconscious. It took us a few minutes to rouse him. What a strange experience! I looked at Feluda, but his face told me nothing. ‘I feel a lot better now,’ Mr Mallik said. ‘I knew my verdict had been wrong in Raaut’s case. Now that I know I have been forgiven, my heart feels lighter.’ ‘Do you hold seances only to reassure yourself?’ Feluda asked. ‘Partly. Do you know what I really think? Sometimes I seriously wonder whether one man has any right at all to send another to his death.’ ‘What about murderers? I mean real criminals, not people like Raaut. Shouldn’t they be punished?’ ‘Of course. They may be given long and hard prison sentences, but death? No, I no longer think that’s fair. Everyone—even criminals—should be given the chance to mend their ways.’

It was nearly eleven o’clock. We rose to go back to our own boat. ‘We are going to Gulmarg the day after tomorrow,’ Mr Mallik said before we left. ‘Why don’t all of you come with us?’ ‘We should like that very much, thank you. Are you going to stay there?’ ‘Just for a night. We could go to Khilanmarg from Gulmarg. It’s only three miles away—you can walk, or go