Inspector Monilal Poddar rang us on Sunday. ‘Have you made any progress?’ he asked Feluda. ‘No. I’m trying to get to know the people in that house, without which I’m not going to get very far. It’s a rather complicated case.’ From what Inspector Poddar then told us, it appeared that there was even now a great risk of the Acharya household being burgled. Since it was known that there were loads of new and original plays and songs still in existence, it was highly likely that whoever had had Indranarayan killed would also try to steal his works. There was an area in Bosepukur where notorious miscreants lived. It was the inspector’s belief that the bearer, Santosh, was in league with these people and might actually help them break into the house. ‘Is that little lane behind the house being watched?’ asked Feluda. ‘You mean Jodu Naskar Lane? Oh yes.’ ‘Do you think you could ask your men to withdraw just for one night?’ ‘So that a potential burglar might feel tempted?’ ‘Exactly.’ ‘Very well. Just tell me when you’d like me to remove my men, and I’ll do it.’ Mr Poddar rang off. It was half past seven in the morning. Only a few minutes later, the phone rang again. This time, it was Pradyumna Mallik. ‘I have been trying your number for half an hour!’ he said breathlessly. ‘Something terrible has happened. Last night, at around midnight, a thief got into Indranarayan’s study. One of the servants must have helped him get in for the constable guarding the rear entrance didn’t see him at all. I heard a noise, and came out of my room to look. At this, the man tried running away. I ran after him and even managed to catch him, you see, but he gave me such a hard push that I fell down and hurt my knee. He escaped, and now I’m walking with a limp!’ Feluda put the phone down. ‘It does seem that the main motive behind the murder was to steal Indranarayan’s works,’ he said to me. ‘If a writer’s songs are so very popular and if it gets to be known that he left behind as many as five new plays and nearly twenty unused songs, obviously all jatra companies would wish to lay their hands on these. Strictly speaking everything should go to Bharat Opera. But, of course, their rivals would like to make sure they get nothing.’ ‘But,’ I ventured to say, ‘how could anyone have learnt about all these songs and plays unless Indranarayan himself had told them? Maybe he wasn’t as loyal to Bharat Opera as people seem to think. Maybe he had made up his mind about joining some other group.’ ‘In that case, who killed him? And why?’ ‘Perhaps he had given his word to Binapani, and so a third group decided to step in and remove him altogether.’

Feluda nodded silently. Clearly, he had already thought of this possibility, but was nowhere near finding a solution. He took out his famous blue notebook and began scribbling in it. What was he thinking of now? Why was he looking so serious? I simply couldn’t tell. Lalmohan Babu arrived as usual at nine o’clock. ‘May I keep your encyclopaedia for another couple of days?’ Feluda asked him. ‘Of course. You may keep it for two months, I don’t mind at all.’ ‘Thank you. I’ve learnt a lot from it about melody, harmony, polyphony, counterpoint. Even in the history of music there have been mysteries and unsolved crime. Mozart had apparently been fatally poisoned by another composer called Salieri. But no one ever really got to the bottom of it.’ ‘I see. What are you plans for today?’ ‘You haven’t heard the latest. Someone got into Indranarayan’s study last night, but thanks to Mr Mallik, he couldn’t steal anything. I think that house should be kept under observation tonight.’ ‘Tonight?’ ‘Yes, say around half past eleven.’ ‘How?’ ‘Remember that back lane? The rear door of the house opens on to it. We could sit on the pavement and keep an eye on that door.’ ‘Sit on the pavement? What will people think if they see three gentlemen sitting on a pavement in the middle of the night? It’ll look decidedly fishy.’ ‘No, it won’t, for the three men won’t look like gentlemen at all.’ My heart leapt suddenly. Was Feluda talking of disguises again? What kind of disguise? Feluda provided the answer even before I could ask. ‘Have you ever played cards?’ he asked Lalmohan Babu. ‘Cards? Why, yes. I’ve played as a child, simple games. . .’ ‘OK, that’s all you need to know. You won’t confuse between clubs and spades, diamonds and hearts, will you?’ ‘No, no, of course not.’ ‘Fine. We’ll dress as Oriya cooks, and play “twenty-nine”. We’ll have to include your driver, Haripada. I’ll organize our costumes and make-up. Don’t open your month unless you have to. And if you do, remember to speak with an Oriya accent.’ ‘OK.’ Lalmohan Babu’s eyes took on a new glint. Even I began to feel very excited. The plot had certainly started to thicken. Lalmohan Babu left at twelve o’clock, agreeing to return at seven and have dinner with us. Then we’d get dressed and go over to Jodu Naskar Lane at eleven. It had struck us all as a quiet and peaceful place. We’d sit under a lamp-post and start playing. Haripada offered to bring a pack of cards in the evening, and an old cotton sheet. Lalmohan Babu would have to be taught the basic rules of ‘twenty-nine’ before we left. The only person who didn’t appear even remotely excited was Feluda. He spent the whole day reading the music encyclopaedia, while I forced myself to sit quietly and turn the pages of a magazine.

Lalmohan Babu arrived with his driver on the dot of seven. Since this time we had to dress a lot more simply, it took us