Feluda listened to our report attentively. Then he said, ‘I can see that you’ve managed pretty well without me.’ ‘Well, asking questions is simple enough,’ said Lalmohan Babu. ‘But I cannot figure out what the answers add up to. Frankly, I am very much in the dark. If Lahiri was killed by an armed robber, the police will certainly catch him. Where is the mystery in all that?’ ‘No ordinary robber would send anonymous notes before killing a man in an alley.’ ‘Ye-es, I guess that’s true. Do you think the same person killed both Mahitosh Roy and Lahiri?’ ‘Yes, either the same person, or two different people from the same gang.’ ‘Yes, but the motive—?’ ‘It could be that one of the other theatre companies had these two men killed. It will take Apsara a long time to replace two of their main actors, and re-establish themselves. A rival company could easily gain from their loss.’ Feluda’s foot was still painful. Perhaps he’d have to have an x-ray. He placed his injured foot on a coffee table, leant back on the sofa and said, ‘You’ve done a lot today. Let me now do my share of the work.’ ‘What are you going to do?’ ‘Think. There is a faint glimmer, but that needs to get brighter . . . and so I need to think.’ ‘Very well, Felu Babu. You think as much as you need to. I am going to sit here very quietly and have a cup of tea. Tapesh, could you please go and tell Srinath?’ When I returned after telling Srinath to make us a fresh pot of tea, I saw Feluda frowning, his eyes closed. Was he going to solve the mystery without stepping out of the house? A little later, he suddenly asked, ‘Did any of these actors appear to have an addiction of any kind? For instance, did any of them smoke?’ ‘Yes, Dipen Bose did. Bhujanga Ray, I think, takes snuff; and Sudhendu Chakravarty was chewing supari.’ ‘I see.’ Silence fell again. Lalmohan Babu poured himself a cup of tea when Srinath brought it, and began drinking it with great relish. I picked up a magazine and leafed through it. Feluda received a great number of magazines every month, some of which went straight into the wastepaper basket. The silence continued for five minutes. Then Feluda opened his eyes. They were shining with excitement. ‘Lalmohan Babu!’ he called, his voice low. ‘Yes, sir?’ ‘This Sudhendu Chakravarty, the newcomer . . . was he of medium height?’

‘Yes.’ ‘And he had a clear complexion?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Age between forty and forty-five?’ ‘Why, yes! What is this, Felu Babu? Do you know the man?’ ‘Not just I. You know him, too.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I think I’ve got it. . . but first let me ring Inspector Bhowmik.’ I dialled the number, and passed him the receiver. ‘Inspector Bhowmik?’ I heard him say. ‘This is Pradosh Mitter. Look, it’s about those actors from