It took me half an hour to get ready. Feluda had already gone down. I found him waiting for me by the reception, pacing anxiously. ‘Dr Divakar hasn’t returned to his house,’ he told me. ‘I rang him again. His family doesn’t know where he’s gone.’ ‘And Batra?’ ‘I couldn’t get through. I’ll try once more, then I’ll go over to his office. We need a car, anyway.’ Lalmohan Babu came down in less than five minutes, looking absolutely normal. But a few things he said implied the effects of LSD hadn’t quite worn off. There was a large Nepali mask hanging on the wall near the reception. He stroked it gently and asked, ‘What is the name of the palace in England?’ ‘Buckingham Palace?’ ‘Yes, bat it’s nothing compared to this.’ ‘Compared to what?’ ‘This hotel. Hotel Lumumba.’ ‘Lumbini.’ ‘All right. Lumbini. He was born here, wasn’t he?’ ‘Who?’ ‘Gautam Buddha.’ ‘Not in this hotel!’ ‘Why, you mean to say they didn’t have hotels before Christ?’ Luckily, this weird conversation could not continue for long, for Feluda turned up soon after and said we had to finish our breakfast quickly and go to Sun Travels, for he still couldn’t get them on the phone. We decided to just have a cup of coffee for breakfast. Something told me today was going to be another eventful day. It took us only five minutes to walk down to Sun Travels. Their office was obviously new, and very smartly furnished. Mr Pradhan, Batra’s secretary, ushered us into Batra’s room; and then dropped a bombshell. ‘Mr Batra has gone out, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘A very important person rang him this morning, you see. He wanted to see our new bungalow in the Rapti valley. So Mr Batra had to go with him. But he did tell me you might need a car. I can arrange one quite easily.’ ‘Thank you. But could you please tell us who this important person was?’ ‘Certainly. It was Mr Meghraj. He’s staying at the Oberoi. A very important art dealer.’ Lalmohan Babu clutched my hand. The very mention of Meghraj’s name had brought him to his senses. But Mr Batra? Who could have known he would fall into Maganlal’s trap so soon?

‘How long does it take to get to your bungalow?’ Feluda asked. ‘You will need to go via Hetaora— that’s 150 km. You might wish to stop for lunch in Hetaora. Our bungalow is new, you see, so the kitchen isn’t ready yet. Turn right as you come out of Hetaora and go along the river for three kilometres. You’ll find our bungalow there, in the middle of the jungle. It’s a beautiful spot.’ ‘I see. Could you have a car pick us up from the hotel in half an hour?’ ‘Very well, sir. No problem!’ ‘You two go back to the hotel and wait for me. I have to go to Darbar Square. I won’t be long,’ Feluda said as we came out of Sun Travels. The car arrived in twenty minutes. Feluda took twenty-five. ‘Had to go to Freak Street,’ he explained. ‘Where is that?’ ‘Not very far. That’s where most hippies stay.’ In five minutes, we were on our way to Hetaora. Feluda had his notebook open and was studying its entries, frowning deeply. Lalmohan Babu had been restored to his normal self, although I noticed he had a strangely tranquil air, suggesting he was totally at peace with the world. Looking at the scenery, he made only one comment: ‘I had double vision yesterday. Now I can see only one of everything.’ Feluda looked up at this and said with a slightly preoccupied air, ‘That is true. But then, so is its reverse.’ I found this remark extremely mystifying. We had climbed four thousand feet from Kathmandu. Snow-capped peaks were clearly in view. Soon, it became necessary to take out woollen mufflers, and drink the hot coffee we had brought in a flask. Half an hour later, we began climbing down, making our way to the Shivalik hills. The Rapti valley and the town of Hetaora were not far. ‘Topshe, do you know Batra’s first name?’ Feluda asked suddenly, closing his notebook. ‘No. He never told us, did he?’ ‘He didn’t. But you should have noticed the name-plate on his desk. It’s Anantlal Batra.’ When we reached Hetaora, it was nearly 2 p.m. None of us felt hungry, so we didn’t stop for lunch. ‘What is food at a moment like this?’ asked Lalmohan Babu. ‘It is nothing!’ The driver drove on, turning right from the highway. I could now see the river Rapti gushing through the trees. The road we were on was lined with tall trees on both sides. I couldn’t get over the fact that we were actually passing through the famous Terai, which was well-known for its vicious wild animals. I had read such a lot about it! After the sepoy mutiny in 1857; Nana Saheb was supposed to have taken refuge in its leafy depths, together with all his men. We took another right turn, which brought us to a dirt road. A few minutes later, we saw the bungalow. A large area had been cleared to build it. It had a sizeable compound. Our car passed through the gate and went up a cobbled driveway. Then it stopped just before the front door. I realized how quiet the place was as soon as our driver switched off the engine. He then got out and moved towards the garage. I could see another car parked there. We too got out of the car and went into the house. The front door was open. ‘Come in, Mr Mitter!’

It wasn’t difficult to recognize the deep voice of Maganlal Meghraj. We walked into the living room. There were two settees. The floor was covered by a Tibetan carpet. A radio stood on a small table on one side, and on a shelf were a few books and