We returned to Bosepukur at ten on Saturday morning. The first person we met was Harinarayan’s daughter, Leena. She had heard a private investigator had been hired and was eager to talk to us. It turned out that she was also an admirer of Feluda’s, so talking to her became easier. ‘Your uncle was very fond of you, wasn’t he?’ Feluda began. ‘Yes, but it wasn’t just that. We were more like friends. He used to read out to me everything he wrote and ask for my views. If I wanted anything changed, if something didn’t sound right, I’d say so; and Uncle would then change it.’ ‘What about songs?’ ‘Those, too. I was always the first to hear a new song.’ ‘Are you fond of music?’ ‘I’m learning to play the piano.’ ‘Western music?’ ‘Yes, but I like Indian music, too. I loved my uncle’s music. I can sing a little.’ ‘Did your uncle ever tell you he was thinking of leaving Bharat Opera?’ ‘I knew that Binapani had offered him a lot of money. But I don’t think he’d have left Bharat. He often used to tell me his roots were with Bharat. If he plucked those out, he couldn’t live anywhere else.’ ‘He was writing a new play. Did you know about this?’ ‘Yes, There were many other plays he had written. I don’t think anyone knows about them. Samrat Ashok wasn’t finished. These others are all complete, but none of them has been staged. Besides, there must be at least twenty new songs that haven’t been used. And rough drafts for more plays . . . you know, just ideas jotted down, outlines written. There may be ten or twelve of those.’ We were talking to Leena in Mr Mallik’s room, which was next to the library. He had told us as we had arrived that his research was now complete, and he was going to return to his house in Serampore to write his book. ‘But you are aware, aren’t you, that you cannot leave this house until this whole business has been settled?’ Feluda asked him. ‘Oh yes, the police made that very clear.’ ‘If you leave, who will work as Keertinarayan’s secretary?’ ‘I’ll get someone else to replace me, that shouldn’t be a problem. Once I get busy writing that biography, I won’t have time for anything else.’ Feluda got up and began pacing, inspecting the room and occasionally staring out to check what else could be seen from it. I followed his gaze and realized that one could see the door to Indranarayan’s study. From the library, however, neither his study nor his bedroom was visible.

Through another window in Mr Mallik’s room one could get a view of the lane that ran behind the house. It was called Jodu Naskar Lane, I remembered. Feluda finished his questions. Leena had already told her father about us. Now she took us to meet him in a sitting room on the first floor. It was a fairly large room, tastefully furnished and full of antiques and curios. On a shelf was hi-fi equipment for playing records and cassettes, flanked by two stereo speakers. There were striking resemblances between father and daughter. Harinarayan was a good-looking man, with a very fair complexion like all the other men in his family. But he seemed larger and fatter than the others. ‘I have heard of you both,’ he said, looking at Feluda and Lalmohan Babu. ‘What can I do for you?’ Feluda did not come straight to the point. ‘You’ve got quite a collection,’ he said, looking at the records and cassettes stacked on one side. ‘Yes, I love western classical music. Indian music does not appeal to me.’ ‘Who’s your favourite composer?’ ‘I like Tchaikovsky very much; and Schumann, Brahms and Chopin.’ ‘That means you’re more fond of the Romantic era than any other.’ ‘Yes, you could say so.’ ‘Your younger brother used to play the violin. But he wasn’t interested in western music, was he?’ ‘No. He was very different. I hear he had a lot of talent, but I never felt like going to a jatra. My wife and my daughter went a few times.’ ‘Do you happen to have a theory of your own regarding your brother’s murder?’ ‘Theory? Well, I think he died because of the company he kept. People who work in jatra companies are often . . . well, they’re not always educated and from good backgrounds, are they? Who knows who Indra had got involved with? He may have had a disagreement with one of his cronies. It’s impossible to say what might have happened. Since nothing valuable was stolen from his room, one can only assume the motive was revenge. If you must make enquiries, go and speak to the people he used to hobnob with. I don’t think you’ll get much from any of us.’ ‘Was it your elder brother who informed the police?’ ‘Yes, but I was in full agreement with him. Isn’t that the obvious thing to do when there’s been a murder? How many people would call in a private investigator without first going to the police? I know my father wanted to do that, but then he’s always been somewhat eccentric. God knows how he managed to work as a barrister.’ ‘He was very fond of Indranarayan, wasn’t he?’ ‘That’s another instance of his eccentric behaviour. He doesn’t like anything traditional, or anyone who conforms to accepted norms. In this respect he is very much like our ancestor, Kandarpanarayan.’ Feluda did not ask him anything more. He thanked him and we rose. It was clear Harinarayan Acharya was not going to tell us anything useful. The oldest of the Acharya brothers, Devnarayan, was sitting in a cane chair on the veranda that faced the west. In front of him was a table with cold beer standing on it. He offered it to us after greetings had been exchanged, but we refused.

‘Was it