I was so taken aback by the sign that, for a few moments, I could not speak at all. ‘This is Telepathy with a capital T!’ Lalmohan babu exclaimed. Feluda did not say anything. He wasn’t just looking at the building, but was darting sharp glances all around. To the left were a number of similar tall buildings, each with at least twenty floors. The buildings to the right were older and lower in height. Through the gaps between some of those buildings, the sea was visible. Our driver was looking at us with a puzzled air. Feluda told him to wait and went through the gate. Lalmohan babu and I stood outside, feeling a little foolish. Feluda returned in about three minutes. ‘Now let’s go to Shalimar Hotel’, he said to the driver. We started another journey. Feluda lit a cigarette and said, ‘It is very likely that your packet went to the seventeenth floor.’ ‘Oh my God, are you a magician? You managed to find out, in just three minutes, where that fellow went with the packet?’ Lalmohan babu asked. ‘There was no need to climb to the seventeenth floor to guess where he might have gone. There was a board over the lift on the ground floor. By the time I got there, it had already started climbing up. The board was flashing the numbers where it stopped. The last number that came on was seventeen. Now do you understand?’ Lalmohan babu sighed. ‘Yes. What I don’t understand is why I can’t think of simple explanations.’ It took us only five minutes to reach our hotel. Feluda and I were given a double room on the fifth floor. Lalmohan babu’s room—a single—was opposite ours. Our room overlooked the street below. Every time I looked out of the window, I could see an endless stream of traffic. Facing the window were two high-rises, through which I could catch glimpses of the sea. It was easy to tell what a lively, thriving city Bombay was even without stepping out of the room. We were all feeling very hungry. So, after a quick wash, we went to the restaurant called Gulmarg on the second floor. As soon as our order was placed, Lalmohan babu asked the question that must have been trembling on his lips. ‘So you, too, can smell an adventure, Felu babu?’ Feluda did not answer that question. Instead, he asked another. ‘Did you notice what that man did after collecting the book from you?’ ‘Did? He just walked away, didn’t he?’ ‘No. You saw him go, but didn’t notice the finer details. He walked away from you, then stopped and fished out a few coins from his pocket.’ ‘Telephone!’ I exclaimed.

‘Well done, Topshe. I believe he then used a public telephone and rang someone in the city. I saw him again when we were waiting for our luggage.’ ‘Where did you see him?’ ‘Do you remember a car park just outside the terminal building? Visible from where we were standing?’ ‘Yes, yes!’ I shouted. Lalmohan babu said nothing. ‘That man got into a blue Ambassador. There was a driver. He tried to start the car, but even after five minutes, nothing happened. The man got out and shouted at the driver. I could not hear him, but could tell by the expression on his face and his gestures that he was most displeased. Eventually, he gave up and walked away from the car.’ ‘To get a taxi!’ Lalmohan babu spoke this time. ‘Exactly. So what does that tell you?’ ‘The man was in a hurry.’ ‘Good. Eyes and your brain—you need to keep these open. If you do, you’ll find that it’s possible to deduce certain facts really quite easily. So, you see, if I was trying to follow that taxi, it was for a reason.’ ‘Yes, but what exactly is on your mind?’ Lalmohan babu asked, sitting up straight and placing his elbows on the table. ‘Nothing. Nothing specific. I only have a doubt . . . a little doubt about something.’ After that, we began talking of other things and did not refer to the matter again. Lalmohan babu joined us in our room at around five o’clock, after a short rest. We ordered tea, and were in the process of drinking it, when there was a knock on our door. The man who entered was most definitely no more than thirty-five but his thick, wavy hair had already turned amazingly grey. ‘Hello, Laluda! How are you? Everything all right?’ he asked. Laluda! It had simply not occurred to me that anyone could possibly call Lalmohan babu ‘Laluda’. So this was Pulak Ghoshal. Feluda had warned Lalmohan babu not to reveal his profession, so he was introduced merely as his friend. Mr Ghoshal looked at Feluda and suddenly shook his head most regretfully. ‘You are Laluda’s friend, one of our very own—and look, here we are, struggling to find a suitable hero. Mr Mitter, can you speak Hindi?’ Feluda grinned. ‘No, sir. I cannot speak Hindi, and what is worse, I cannot act. But why are you still looking for a hero? I thought you’d found Arjun Mehrotra.’ ‘Yes, but Arjun has changed a lot, he’s not the same person any more. Now he’s learnt to make endless demands. I don’t call these actors heroes, you know. They are all villains under the surface; never mind if they play heroes on the screen. The producers have spoilt them rotten. Anyway, I am here to invite you to the first day’s shooting the day after tomorrow. The spot is about seventy miles from here. Your driver knows the place. Try to leave as early as you can. Mr Gore—my producer, I mean—isn’t here. He’s out visiting Delhi, Calcutta and Madras to sell this film. But he told me to make sure you were well looked after.’ ‘Where is this spot?’ ‘Between Khandala and Lonavala. We’ll shoot inside a train. If there aren’t enough passengers, I’ll