Moti Mistri Lane turned out to be so narrow that we had to park our car outside on the main road. The owner of a paan shop told us where Sasadhar Chatterjee lived. We found the house and knocked on the door. It was opened by a middle-aged man. ‘Yes?’ he looked at us enquiringly. ‘We’d like to meet Sasadhar Chatterjee. Is he home?’ ‘I am Chatterjee. How can I help you?’ Lalmohan Babu took out another card and passed it to Mr Chatterjee. ‘You are the famous writer, Lalmohan Ganguli?’ Mr Chatterjee asked, his eyes glinting. ‘I don’t know about being famous, but I am the writer, yes,’ Lalmohan Babu replied with unusual modesty. ‘Why, I have read every book you’ve ever written! But what brings you here?’ ‘I have been sent here by my friend, Pradosh Mitter.’ ‘I know of him, too. Please come in.’ At last, we stepped into his room. A large bed occupied most of it, but there were two chairs as well. Lalmohan Babu took one of these and said, ‘We are making enquiries regarding the murder of Nepal Lahiri. Can you tell us anything about it?’ ‘What can I say? He was killed even before he could get to my house. One of our local boys came and told me what had happened. Nepal and I had been friends for twenty-two years, although we worked for different companies.’ ‘Did he have any enemies?’ ‘Of course he did. He was important and well established, the star of Apsara. Many other actors envied him.’ ‘Can you think of anyone in particular?’ ‘No, I am afraid not. He never mentioned anyone’s name. Nepal was a bit reckless, it never bothered him what others said or felt. He knew how good he was, and how much in demand. Various rival companies had made him tempting offers, but his loyalties were with Apsara. That’s where he had started his career, you see.’ ‘Did he tell you about the threatening notes he had been sent?’ ‘Yes, but he didn’t seem perturbed at all. The fact is, an astrologer had once told him he’d live until the age of eighty-two. Nepal believed him. He also believed that he’d continue to work until that age, and would actually die on the stage.’ Mr Chatterjee sighed. ‘I really don’t have anything more to say,’ he added. ‘I feel rather depressed, to tell you the truth.’ We took the hint and rose. Then we thanked him and left.

We returned home straight after this to make our report. Feluda seemed very pleased with Lalmohan Babu. ‘Well done, Mr Ganguli!’ he said. ‘You worked just as efficiently as a professional investigator. The only thing that remains to be done now is interviewing the other top actors of Apsara—the ones that knew Nepal Lahiri well. Some might have been jealous, but others might have been close to him.’ ‘How is your ankle?’ I asked him. ‘Much the same. I don’t think I can go out for another couple of days. By the way, when you speak to the other actors, don’t forget the new one.’ ‘No, no, of course not.’ Lalmohan Babu was duly gratified by Feluda’s praise. ‘It was a new experience for me,’ he said happily. ‘Now I don’t think your job is as difficult as it seems.’ ‘No. The only difficult part is arriving at the truth.’ ‘Yes, that’s true; and I certainly cannot claim that I can find out the truth just by asking a few questions. But, Felu Babu, I can tell you this: if you saw me today, even you would not have recognized me.’ ‘Really?’ ‘Really. I was a different man.’ Feluda laughed and changed the subject. ‘Were they having rehearsals this morning?’ he asked. ‘Yes, I think so. They’re planning to stage Alamgeer quite soon,’ I replied. ‘In that case, ring the manager before going and ask him what time might be convenient to speak to everyone.’ ‘Very well.’ ‘Did you see the police there?’ ‘No. There were no policemen.’ ‘Perhaps they were in plain clothes. I am going to ring Inspector Bhowmik and ask him how far they have got. He must be in charge of this case.’