It was a small report, published in one of the dailies. The actor from Apsara Theatre, Mahitosh Roy, had disappeared. Apparently, he used to go for a walk by the lake in the evening, unless there was a show. The day before yesterday—on Monday, that is—he was free, so he went for his walk, but did not return. His bearer informed the police, but he had not been found as yet. Feluda seemed annoyed when he read the report. ‘I told him to be careful,’ he said, frowning. ‘I said he shouldn’t take any undue risks. Who asked him to leave his house and go out purely unnecessarily? Still, I suppose I ought to visit his house since he did come to me for help. Do you remember his address?’ ‘Five Panditia Place, Ballygunj.’ ‘Good. I was just testing your memory.’ Five Panditia Place turned out to be a small house with two storeys. Mr Roy lived on the ground floor. His bearer opened the door. We told him who we were. He stepped aside and asked us to come in. ‘Your master had come to me to ask for help. He was receiving threatening notes. Did you know about that?’ Feluda asked. ‘Yes, sir. I had been with him for twenty-two years. He used to tell me everything. I had told him not to go out of the house unless it was necessary, but he didn’t listen to me. That evening, when he didn’t return even after nine o’clock, I went to look for him myself. I knew the exact spot where he liked to walk and the bench where he often sat. But I couldn’t find him anywhere. Then a whole day passed, he still did not come back. I even went to the police, but they couldn’t find him, either.’ ‘Do you think you could come with us now and show us the spot where you think Mr Roy might have been seen last?’ ‘Very well, sir.’ ‘What is your name?’ ‘Dinabandhu.’ We took a taxi and reached the lake. Dinabandhu pointed out a bench under a tree by the lake, where Mr Roy used to sit after he finished walking. Apparently, it was his doctor who had insisted on this daily exercise. At this moment, there was no one in sight. Feluda took this opportunity to inspect the bench and its immediate surroundings closely. Five minutes later, he found a small brass container in the tall and thick grass behind the bench. ‘Why, this used to belong to my master!’ exclaimed Dinabandhu. Feluda opened the container. There were a few pieces of supari in it. Feluda put it in his pocket. ‘Did you go to the Bhawanipore police station?’ Feluda asked. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘Very well. We’ll now drop you at your house, and then have a chat with the police.’

Most OCs in Calcutta knew Feluda. The one in Bhawanipore was Subodh Adhikari. A stern, yet cheerful man, he greeted us with surprise. ‘What brings you here so early in the morning?’ he asked. We took two chairs. ‘It’s about the disappearance of a Mahitosh Roy,’ Feluda explained. ‘I see. Inspector Ghose was handling that one. Let me call him. Would you like a cup of tea?’ ‘Yes, please. Thank you.’ Our tea and the inspector arrived together. He and Feluda shook hands. ‘I am here to enquire about Mahitosh Roy. I believe he is missing?’ Feluda said. ‘Yes. I think he’s been killed. We found a few threatening letters in his house. All anonymous, of course. If he was killed, and his body thrown into the lake, it would be impossible to find it, especially if something heavy was tied to it. But how come you are interested in this case?’ ‘Well, Mr Roy had come to see me before he vanished, about those notes, you see. Have you worked out how you are going to proceed?’ ‘We are still making enquiries. He used to work for Apsara Theatre. We have spoken to a few people there, but didn’t get very far. There were rivalries between actors, but nothing strong enough to warrant a murder.’ ‘How was Mr Roy doing financially?’ ‘He was earning twelve hundred rupees a month. He had no family, so he managed to get by. Mind you, we don’t know for sure that he’s been murdered. It may be that he’s simply gone into hiding.’ ‘I went to the spot where he used to sit after a walk, by the lake. I found one of his belongings there, hidden in the grass. It is a small brass container. He kept supari in it.’ ‘Really? Then perhaps it is murder. Perhaps this container fell out of his pocket during a struggle with his assassin.’ ‘Yes, that is a possibility.’ ‘Very well, we’ll continue with our investigation and keep you informed, Mr Mitter.’ ‘Thank you, I’ll be in touch.’ We finished our tea and left the police station. ‘I think we ought to visit Apsara Theatre,’ said Feluda as we came out. ‘Go and ring Lalmohan Babu from that chemist’s shop and tell him to join us.’ I made the phone call and then we took a taxi. Apsara Theatre was in Shyambazar.