‘I believe Batra came into contact with Maganlal through his job as a PRO,’ said Feluda. We were sitting at a restaurant, on our way back to Kathmandu, having coffee and sandwiches. With us were Dr Divakar, Inspector Sharma of the Nepal Police and Inspector Joardar from Calcutta. We had found Dr Divakar in one of the rooms in the bungalow. His hands and feet were tied, and he had been gagged. But that had not stopped him from stamping his feet, making that thudding noise we had heard. According to what Dr Divakar told the police this morning, Batra had called at his house and picked him up, saying there was an emergency case needing his attention. He had then collected Maganlal and the two men had forced him to go to the bungalow with them. Maganlal and his men were now back in Kathmandu, all under arrest. I was dying to know how he’d react to the LSD, but knew I’d have to wait until tomorrow to find out. Feluda was still speaking. ‘Maganlal knew an educated, intelligent man like Batra would be very useful to him. So he got him to join his gang. When he came to know Anikendra Som was making enquiries, he realized Som had to be got out of the way. He chose Batra for this task. Batra took the same plane from Kathmandu as Som, and managed to get talking with him, although he later denied this. We found one sentence in Mr Som’s notebook that said, “Find out about AB”. I had thought at first that meant antibiotics, but the minute I learnt Batra’s first name was Anantlal, I realized Som was referring to him. It could be that something Batra said made him suspicious.’ Feluda paused to take a sip from his cup, and continued, ‘It now looks as though Mr Som had mentioned to Batra that he was going to meet me. Batra knew who I was. So he could guess that should Som get killed, I would be asked to make an investigation. He didn’t know then that we would run into each other purely by accident. But when we did, the idea of creating a “double” occurred to him immediately. I have to admit it was a very clever idea. He happened to have bought a blue shirt just before he met me, which, in fact, he was still carrying in a plastic bag. Soon after we parted, he must have gone into a shop for readymade garments and changed into the blue shirt in one of their fitting rooms. Then he deliberately walked past us, pretending never to have seen me in his life. The next day, he staged a little drama in the gift shop, and came to my house in the evening to convince me of the existence of this “double”. The day after that, he left his hotel very early in the morning in a taxi, went to Mr Som’s hotel at five and killed him. Then he went to the airport and caught his flight to Kathmandu at nine o’clock. He left the kukri behind to make me think that the murderer was the “fake” Mr Batra.’ ‘When did you first begin to have doubts?’ asked Inspector Joardar. ‘Well, you see, when I first met him, he got me to write down my address in his notebook. This was necessary, since he would have had to use his left hand if he wrote it himself. Now, that would have

spoilt things, for he was then trying to establish that it was the other Batra who was left-handed. But I noticed something odd about the nib of his fountain pen. If a left-handed person uses a fountain pen, he holds it at a certain angle and the nib gets worn. A right-handed person then finds it difficult to write with the same pen. I felt the same difficulty, but paid no attention at the time. When I saw that the murderer of Mr Som was left-handed, my suspicions were roused and I felt I should probe into the matter a bit further in Kathmandu. But I did not know then that it was a case of two murders, not one.’ ‘Two murders?’ Lalmohan Babu couldn’t hide his amazement. We all stared. Which was the second murder? What was Feluda talking about? But Feluda said nothing. Finally, Dr Divakar broke the silence. ‘He’s right,’ he said. ‘I did get a sample of anti-tetanus serum from my dispensary and had it tested. It turned out to be just plain water. I was going to call on Mr Mitter and tell him personally, but I never got the chance. Those who deal with spurious drugs certainly deserve to be called murderers. I agree with Mr Mitter.’ ‘But, Dr Divakar, I am not talking of spurious drugs,’ said Feluda. This time, even the doctor looked startled. ‘Then what are you talking about?’ he asked. ‘I’ll explain that in a minute. Before that I wish to mention something else. Three years ago, Himadri Chakravarty had exposed a gang of criminals. His father told us he was working on catching another group meddling with medicines and drugs. If he succeeded, Maganlal and his men would have been in deep trouble. So obviously Maganlal had a strong motive for getting him out of the way.’ ‘But how?’ ‘That was fairly simple. Maganlal got a doctor to help him.’ ‘A doctor?’ Dr Divakar frowned. ‘Yes.’ ‘Who? Which doctor do you mean?’ ‘A doctor who has suddenly come into a lot of money. He’s now got a new house and a new car. He wears an expensive watch, glasses with golden frames . . .’ ‘What utter nonsense are you—?’ ‘—A doctor who looks at a mere scratch and gives an anti-tetanus shot, although he knows it is totally unnecessary. Do you think, Dr Divakar, that I didn’t see through your clever ploy? All that business of getting yourself tied up and