I went to sleep at ten o’clock and woke at half past six. Breakfast was served when we reached Buxar. We were supposed to reach Mughalsarai at a quarter to nine. Lunch would be served at twelve-thirty, our bearer told us. By that time we should have reached Pratapgarh. Mr Biswas turned out to be an early riser. After breakfast, he said, ‘Someone I know is travelling in the next compartment. Let me go and say hello to him.’ Lalmohan Babu, I noticed, had had a shave and was looking quite fresh. He was currently using imported razors. A friend had brought him twenty from Kathmandu. Each lasted three or four shaves, then had to be discarded. ‘What will you do when you run out of these?’ Feluda asked him. ‘Go back to ordinary Indian blades?’ ‘No, sir,’ Lalmohan Babu grinned. ‘I rather like to indulge myself when if comes to shaving. I buy Wilkinson blades from New Market.’ ‘But that’s really expensive.’ ‘Yes, but I don’t have any other expenses to handle, do I? I live alone, so I like to spend my money on myself.’ ‘We contribute quite a lot to your expenses, Lalmohan Babu. Just think how often we use your car?’ ‘Heh, that’s hardly a problem. We are the Three Musketeers, remember? How can one of them travel in his own car, leaving the others to look for taxis? I never heard anything so ridiculous.’ Feluda lit a Charminar and went into the corridor for a walk. He returned in five minutes and said, ‘I found Mr Biswas and another man deep in conversation in coupe number one. He appeared to be an Anglo-Indian, although his complexion wasn’t all that fair.’ ‘Did you hear what they were saying?’ Lalmohan Babu asked curiously. ‘I only heard what this other man was saying. He said, “I can give you just three days.” That was all.’ ‘Did it sound like a threat?’ ‘Difficult to say. One has to raise one’s voice so often in a moving train. Perfectly harmless words may sound like a threat.’ A little later, Mr Biswas came back with the man he had been speaking to. ‘I thought you might like to meet Mr Sukius,’ he said to Feluda. ‘He’s a well-known businessman of Lucknow; and a connoisseur of art.’ ‘I hope we will meet again in Lucknow. Mr Biswas and I are old friends,’ Mr Sukius said, shaking hands with Feluda. He left soon after we had been introduced to him. Feluda turned to Mr Biswas as he returned to his seat. ‘You told us your mother-in-law’s real name was Virginia Reynolds,’ he said. ‘Do you know anything about the history of their family? How long

have they been in India?’ ‘Virginia’s grandfather, John Reynolds, came to India in 1827. He was nineteen at the time. He joined the Bengal regiment. During the mutiny of 1857, he was posted in Lucknow. He fought bravely for a long time, but was eventually killed. His son Thomas was also in the Bengal regiment and, like his father, was posted to Lucknow after a while. He decided to settle there. He learnt to speak Urdu, began to smoke a hookah, take paan and use attar. Since he was fond of music and dancing, he got professional singers and dancers to perform regularly in his house. Sometimes he even dressed in Indian clothes. In other words, his lifestyle was no different from that of a nawab in Lucknow. People called him “Thomas Bahadur”. In the end, he fell in love with a kathak dancer called Farida Begum and married her. They had two sons, Edward and Charles. Neither went into the army. Edward became a lawyer and Charles went to manage a tea estate in Assam. He never returned to Lucknow. Thomas and Farida’s third child was Virginia. She was born with her father’s pale skin, but her mother’s dark hair and eyes. When she began acting in films, she looked beautiful, and not unsuitable in the role of an Indian woman. She spoke both Urdu and English. ‘As I told you before, she married a Bengali Christian. He was called Percival Motilal Banerjee. He was, in fact, the producer of Shakuntala’s films. It was he who got Virginia to join films and change her name to Shakuntala. He made a lot of money from films. Virginia’s father, Thomas Reynolds, had virtually no savings. He might have died a pauper, but Virginia stepped in and took care of her old father. ‘Percival and Virginia had two daughters and a son. The eldest is called Margaret Susheela. She is married, as I told you, to a Goan called Saldanha. He owns a shop selling musical instruments. ‘I married their second daughter, Pamela Suneela, in 1960. I am in the business of imports and exports. I’ve told you about my daughter. I have also got a son. Victor Prasenjit. My daughter’s called Mary Sheela. I tried to get my son to join me, but he wasn’t interested in running a business. He usually does what he likes. Sheela finished college two years ago. She is quite a gifted actress, but her main interest is in journalism. She’s started writing for various publications. I’ve read her articles. They’re really good.’ Mr Biswas stopped and lit a cigarette, having offered one to Feluda. ‘Interesting,’ Feluda said briefly. ‘Highly romantic!’ Lalmohan Babu declared. ‘Tell me, has your wife ever worn that necklace?’ ‘Yes, she’s worn it to a few parties. But usually it stays locked in a chest. You’ll see how valuable it is when I show it to you.’ ‘I can’t wait!’ Lalmohan Babu cried. ‘You’ll have to be patient, Mr Ganguli, for just another four days,’ Mr Biswas told him.