We had gone to Bosepukur on a Thursday, and were supposed to go back there on Saturday. We were therefore free on Friday. Lalmohan Babu turned up in the morning, although he normally came only on Sunday. The beginning of a new case was clearly causing him great excitement. He flopped down on a chair and said, ‘There’s lots to do, isn’t there? Surely we must visit some of these jatra companies?’ ‘Certainly. Since you’re here already, let’s take your car and go to Bharat Opera.’ ‘And then I suppose we need to find the manager of Binapani, Ishan—’ ‘No, not Ishan. Ashwini. Ashwini Bhaur. Yes, we have to speak to him as well. Topshe, go and find their address.’ I looked it up in the telephone directory and discovered it was in Suresh Mallik Street. ‘I know where it is,’ Lalmohan Babu informed us. ‘I used to go there regularly at one time. There used to be a gym.’ ‘You used to go to a gym?’ Even Feluda couldn’t hide his surprise. ‘Yes, believe me. I did push-ups and used barbells, and a chest expander. When I eventually stopped going there, my chest measured forty-two inches. Not bad for a man of my height, eh?’ ‘So what happened to that chest and those muscles?’ ‘They . . . disappeared. What would a writer do with muscles, anyway? Whatever muscles I have left are in my brain. But I still walk a lot, miles daily. That’s why I can still keep up with you.’ We left after a cup of tea. Lalmohan Babu’s driver got very excited on being told where we were going. He had seen many shows staged by Bharat Opera and knew about the murder. ‘It was Indra Acharya alone who made Bharat Opera what it is today. If you can catch his killer, sir, you will do us all a great service,’ he said to Feluda. The traffic being heavy today, it took us forty-five minutes to reach Bharat Opera in Muhammad Shafi Lane. A dark, middle-aged man greeted us as we entered. ‘Who would you like to see?’ he asked lazily. Feluda produced his card. The man’s demeanour underwent a swift change. His expressionless eyes began glinting with interest. ‘Are you looking for Sarat Babu, our proprietor?’ ‘Yes, that’s right.’ ‘Just a minute, please.’ The man disappeared behind a door. We found ourselves a bench and a chair and sat down. Lalmohan Babu glanced around and said, ‘You wouldn’t say this company was doing so well just by looking at this room, would you?’

The same man came back in a couple of minutes and said, ‘Please come with me. Sarat Babu’s office is upstairs.’ We went up a narrow staircase. I caught strains of a harmonium. Were people rehearsing somewhere in the building? Even if they had lost a valuable member of their team, the show had to go on. The office of the proprietor, Sarat Bhattacharya, was very different from the room downstairs.