A right turn from the main crossing outside our hotel led to Shukra Path, which ran straight on to join a shopping complex. A large covered area stood packed with rows of small departmental stores. Each one of them sold imported stuff, ranging from clothes, watches, tape recorders, radios and calculators, to writing material, sweets and chocolates. ‘I feel like howling!’ Lalmohan Babu proclaimed, standing outside one of these shops. ‘Why?’ ‘All these shops, dear boy, just look at all those goodies! They are not meant for people like us, are they? I’m sure all these shops are patronized by people like . . . like . . . John D. Rockefeller, or superstars from Bombay, perhaps?’ In the end, however, he succumbed to temptation and bought two metres of light orange Japanese terrywool. ‘I need new trousers,’ he told me. The shop offered to have them tailored by 4 p.m. the next evening. ‘That colour would be most apt for the Land of the Lamas, wouldn’t you say?’ he asked, emerging from the shop, looking immensely pleased. I didn’t want to cast a damper, but felt obliged to point out that Nepal could hardly be called the Land of the Lamas, since eighty per cent of the population was Hindu. We came back to the hotel to find Feluda scribbling in his notebook. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘I’ve called a doctor.’ Doctor? Was he unwell? We promptly sat on the sofa, fixing anxious eyes on him. Feluda took a couple of minutes to finish writing. Then he pushed aside the notebook and explained, ‘I’ve called Dr Divakar, the same doctor who had given the tetanus injection to Himadri Chakravarty. He normally sees patients at the Star Dispensary on Dharma Path. I will, of course, have to pay him his fee, but that cannot be helped. I’d much rather talk to him here.’ ‘Drugs and medicines seem to play an important role in this investigation,’ Lalmohan Babu observed. ‘Not just important, Lalmohan Babu,’ Feluda said. ‘I believe in this whole sad business, they play a crucial role.’ ‘What about that surgical acid Mr Som’s notebook mentioned? Is it—’ ‘Lysergic Acid, not surgical. But then—’ Feluda picked up his notebook again, frowning. ‘The term LSD can mean something else. It occurred to me only a few minutes ago. You see, LSD could also stand for Life Saving Drugs, such as anti-tetanus serum, or things like penicillin, teramycin, streptomycin, drugs to fight TB and heart problems. I think,’ Feluda glanced at his notebook, ‘where it says “find out about AB”, it’s referring

to these drugs. AB could mean antibiotics. Mr Som was clearly trying to find out more about these. “Ring up PCM, DDC”— well, PCM is Pradosh Chandra Mitter, and DDC is probably the Directorate of Drug Control. It’s likely that Mr Som had a sample of a drug that he wanted people at Drug Control to test. It’s amazing how methodically he was working. With a brain like that, he