‘If I asked you a few questions, would you mind?’ Feluda asked Lalmohan babu. We had returned to our hotel from Shivaji Castle about ten minutes ago. The receptionist had informed us that while we were out, someone had rung Lalmohan babu, but didn’t leave his name or a message. ‘It must be Pulak, trying to get hold of me every now and then,’ said Lalmohan babu. ‘It cannot be anyone else.’ Now he turned to Feluda and said, ‘If I could handle a police interrogation and come through with flying colours, why should I mind questions from you?’ ‘Very well. You don’t know Sanyal’s first name, do you?’ ‘No. I didn’t get round to asking him.’ ‘Can you describe him? I want a full and clear description—not the slipshod type of description you use in your books!’ Lalmohan babu cleared his throat and frowned. ‘His height would be . . . let’s see . . .’ ‘Do you always take in a person’s height before anything else?’ ‘Yes, if he is exceptionally shorter or taller than average . . .’ ‘Was Sanyal very short?’ ‘No.’ ‘Remarkably tall?’ ‘No.’ ‘Then let’s not talk about his height right now. Tell me about his face.’ ‘I saw him late in the evening. And the light bulb in my living room isn’t particularly strong, it’s only forty watts.’ ‘Never mind. Tell me what you can remember.’ ‘A broad face. His eyes . . . ah . . . he was wearing glasses. Had a beard—pretty thick—and a moustache, attached to his beard . . .’ ‘You mean a French beard?’ ‘N-no, it was different, I think. It was joined to his sideburns as well.’ ‘All right, go on.’ ‘His hair . . . salt-and-pepper. Yes, that’s what it was, and he had a right. . . no, no, a left parting.’ ‘Teeth?’ ‘Perfect. Didn’t appear to be false teeth.’ ‘Voice?’ ‘Neither too deep, nor too thin. Sort of medium.’ ‘Height?’

‘Told you. Medium.’ ‘Didn’t he give you a phone number? Didn’t he say it was his friend’s number in Bombay, and this friend was a very helpful man?’ ‘Oh yes! I say, I’d forgotten all about it. I could have told the police, but even when that inspector was asking me all those questions, I clean forgot.’ ‘No matter, you can tell me.’ ‘Wait, let me see . . .!’ Lalmohan babu opened his wallet and took out a blue, folded piece of paper. Feluda examined it carefully, as the writing was Sanyal’s own. Then he put the paper away in his own wallet, and said to me, ‘Topshe, could you please ask for that number—tell the operator it’s 253418.’ I picked up the phone and spoke to the operator. Then I passed the phone to Feluda. ‘Hello,’ Feluda said, ‘Could I speak to Mr Desai, please?’ How perfectly weird! It turned out that no one called Desai had ever used that number. The man who answered it was called Parekh, and he