Half an hour later, we had had a shower and were down at the hotel’s restaurant, Nirvana, to have lunch. I had not expected things to move quite so quickly so soon after our arrival. Mr Som’s murder in Calcutta, Himadri Chakravarty’s death in Kathmandu, the fake Mr Batra—all these were undoubtedly linked together. Had Mr Som wanted Feluda to investigate the death of his friend ? Did he really die because he was injected with a spurious drug? A waiter arrived to take our order. Lalmohan Babu peered at the menu and asked, ‘What is mo- mo?’ ‘It’s meat balls in sauce, sir,’ the waiter replied. ‘It’s a Tibetan dish,’ Feluda told him. ‘Try it, Lalmohan Babu. When you go back to Calcutta, you can tell your friends you ate the same thing as the Dalai Lama.’ ‘OK, one mo-mo for me, please.’ The waiter finished taking our order and left. Lalmohan Babu now produced a light green card. ‘A man at the counter handed this to me,’ he said, ‘but, for the life of me, I can’t figure out what to do with it. I can recognize the word “casino”, but what’s all this? Jackpot, pontoon, roulette, blackjack . . . and, look, it says its value is five dollars. What does it mean?’ Feluda explained, ‘There is a very famous hotel here, which has a big casino for gambling. Those words that you read out are names of various types of gambling. Gambling in public isn’t permitted in our country, so you won’t find a casino in any Indian hotel. What you can do with that card is show it at the casino and try your hand at any game. You can spend up to five dollars without paying anything from your own pocket.’ ‘Hey, that sounds interesting! Why don’t we . . . ?’ ‘I don’t mind!’ I said. ‘Yes. How can a horse resist a carrot if it dangles right before its nose? What do you say, Felu Babu?’ ‘Horse? You may well feel like an ass when you’ve finished. But then, if you’re lucky enough, who knows what might happen?’ We decided to spend an evening at the casino. Our hotel would arrange transport, at no extra cost. Our food arrived. ‘Delicious!’ said Lalmohan Babu, tasting his mo-mo. ‘I must get the recipe from somewhere. I have an excellent cook back home who, I’m sure, could make it for me. Six months of consuming this stuff and one is bound to start looking distinguished.’ We went out after lunch. ‘Let’s go to Darbar Square,’ said Feluda. ‘That is where the main police station is. I must go there. The two of you can look around, then meet me somewhere.’ Darbar Square startled us all. It reminded me of a chessboard, when a game is well under way. Just as the board is littered with chessmen in various positions, the square was strewn with palaces,

temples, statues and pillars. Amidst these, hundreds of people went