We were back in our room after dinner, chatting idly, when Lalmohan Babu suddenly announced that he must return to his room. ‘Why? What’s the hurry?’ Feluda asked. ‘It’s that book Shatadal gave me. You know, the one written by Rev. Pritchard called Life and Work in Birbhum. It’s absolutely gripping. In fact, there’s mention of the story we just heard from Maxwell about a punkha-puller being kicked to death.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Yes. This happened towards the end of the nineteenth century. Reginald Maxwell killed his servant, but no one punished him for doing so . . . The punkha-puller was called Hiralal. His wife had died, but he had a little boy. When Rev. Pritchard heard about the murder, he rushed to Maxwell’s house, and found the orphan boy. He brought the child back with him and began looking after him as though he was his own. The child was called Anant Narayan. Eventually, he became a Christian and was put in a missionary school. Now I am dying to find out what happened next. So if you’ll excuse . . .’ Someone knocked on the door. I found Peter standing outside. ‘May I come in?’ ‘Of course.’ Feluda rose. Lalmohan Babu, who was about to leave, changed his mind and sat down again. Peter looked extremely unhappy. Something serious must have happened. ‘What’s the matter, Peter?’ Feluda asked. ‘I have decided to sell the ruby.’ ‘What! Why? Oh, do sit down, Peter. Tell us what happened.’ Peter sat down. ‘I don’t want to lose an old friend. Tom is totally obsessed with the idea of selling that ruby. His dream is to travel all over the world, and that dream can come true if the ruby is sold. I thought things over, and felt there was no point in giving it away to a museum. After all, how many people would really get to see it, tell me? So I thought . . .’ his voice trailed away. Feluda frowned. After a short pause, he said, ‘Well, it’s your decision. Who am I to say anything? I am disappointed, but it’s really none of my business, is it?’ ‘When do you want to sell it?’ Lalmohan Babu asked. ‘I’ve just spoken to Dandania. He made the first offer, so I think I should go back to him. He told me to meet him the day after tomorrow at ten.’ ‘I thought your return to India would result in a historic event,’ Feluda said sadly, ‘but now all one would get to see would be a simple commercial transaction.’ ‘I am very sorry,’ said Peter, and left. We sat in silence, feeling terribly deflated and let down.

We had planned to visit Bakreshwar the following morning. We had just finished our breakfast and reached the lounge, when Mr Naskar arrived in his car. ‘Good morning,’ he said, coming in to the reception area. ‘Good morning.’ ‘Would you like to see a Santhal dance this evening? A dance has been arranged