The next day, Feluda said, ‘Why don’t you two go to Dilkhusha? I have a few things to do. I must make an appointment with Sukius, and also speak to Inspector Pandey.’ Lalmohan Babu and I left after breakfast. Instead of taking a taxi, we took a tonga this time. It was his idea, since he had heard Feluda and I had ridden in tongas during our last visit. ‘Can you tell me the history of this place, dear Tapesh?’ he asked on the way. I told him what I knew: ‘Early in the nineteenth century, Nawab Sadat Ali had this building built, though he did not live here permanently. He brought his friends over sometimes, to have a good time for a few days. It had a most scenic view. Deer roamed in his gardens. Sadly, now the whole place is in ruins, but there is a beautiful park next to it. To the north of Dilkhusha is the famous La Martiniere School. Claude Martin, who was a Major General, built this school in the eighteenth century. You can see it from Dilkhusha.’ It did not take us long to inspect the ruins. ‘It’s like watching history unfold itself!’ Lalmohan Babu enthused. Then we went for a walk in the park, little knowing what an unpleasant experience awaited us. At first, the park appeared to be empty. Perhaps it was in the evening that most people came here. We made our way through beds of flowers. Soon, a portion of a bench behind a tree came into view. This was followed by voices. What we saw as we passed the tree made my heart jump. Prasenjit and a couple of other boys of the same age were sitting on the bench, smoking. Their hair was dishevelled, their eyes looked glazed. Now there could be no doubt that Prasenjit was a drug addict. Unless something was done soon, it would be too late for him to make a comeback. Hard drugs made an addict lose all sense of right and wrong. Sometimes people didn’t even hesitate to kill. It took Prasenjit a few seconds to notice us. When he did, his lips spread in a slow, cruel smile. ‘I can see the detective’s chamchas. Where’s the super sleuth himself?’ he asked. His voice sounded hoarse, his speech was slurred. ‘He didn’t come with us,’ Lalmohan Babu replied shortly. ‘No? Well, it’s his loss. He missed witnessing this tremendous scene!’ We remained silent. ‘Has the thief been caught?’ Prasenjit’s voice held open contempt. ‘No, not yet.’ ‘I am the prime suspect, aren’t I? Because I need money. Everyone knows that. I have to borrow money all the time . . . just for a glimpse of heaven . . . for an hour or two. Listen—I can tell you this —I wouldn’t be foolish enough to steal that necklace. Do you know why? Because I don’t need to. My luck has changed. I’ve been making a lot of money lately. Yes, yes . . . gambling, what else? If I have to borrow money sometimes, it’s only because once you’ve had a taste of heaven, you cannot stop.

Why don’t you try it, Mr Thriller Writer? Your writing’s bound to improve . . . you’ll get thousands of new ideas, I promise. Come on, are you game?’ Still we said nothing. What could we say, anyway? ‘Remember just one thing, both of you!’ Prasenjit suddenly leapt to his feet. His voice was still hoarse, but had a sharp edge to it. Before either of us could ask him what he meant, he took out a flick knife from his pocket and pointed it at us. We were both considerably startled by the speed with which the blade sprang out. ‘If I hear that anyone has come to know about my hanging around in this park, I will know who has blabbed. And then you will learn how sharp this knife is. Now clear out from here!’ There was no reason to stay on. We had already seen and heard too much. Lalmohan Babu and I retraced our steps, found another tonga and returned to our hotel. Neither of us spoke on the way back. We found Sheela in our room, an autograph book in her hand. She stood up on seeing us. ‘I’d better be going now,’ she said, turning to Feluda. ‘I’ve already taken up quite a lot of your time. Thank you for the autograph. Good luck with your detection!’ When Sheela had gone, Lalmohan Babu described our recent experience. Feluda shook his head sadly. ‘There was something odd about the look in his eyes,’ he said. ‘It was pretty obvious he took drugs. I feel sorry for his parents. A bleak future is all that’s in store for him.’ ‘But does that mean it was he who stole the necklace?’ Lalmohan Babu asked. Feluda made no reply. After a brief pause, he suddenly said, ‘Oh by the way, you’ll have to go out again, I am afraid.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Mr Sukius’s telephone seems to be out of order. We’ll have to go to his house to make an appointment to see him. I would have gone myself, but Sheela turned up. And now I don’t want to go out. I need to think. There’s something shaping up in my mind . . . I have to sit quietly and think it through. If you left now, you might get him at home. Go on, Topshe, call a taxi.’ Lalmohan Babu appeared quite pleased by this. ‘I was getting tired of all those questions,’ he confessed as we climbed into a taxi. ‘Now we’ve got something different to do.’ We found the house easily enough. We told our driver to wait for five minutes and rang the bell. It was a large house. It looked at least fifty years old, but was well maintained. A marble nameplate on the gate bore Sukius’s name. A bearer opened the door. ‘Is Mr