Before coming to Nepal, Feluda and I had often talked about our past adventures and wondered what had become of those villains Feluda had exposed. Bonobihari Sarkar of Lucknow, Mandar Bose in Jaisalmer, Mr Gore of Bombay, Maganlal Meghraj of Benaras—had they been adequately punished and had they learnt their lesson? Or were they still out there somewhere, spinning more webs of crime? After all, they all had enormous cunning. Why, some of them had so nearly managed to get away! Little did we know that here in Kathmandu we were going to find one of these figures so unexpectedly. When we returned from Patan in the late afternoon, after having stopped for lunch at a restaurant (sadly for Lalmohan Babu, their menu did not include mo-mo), Feluda was lying on his bed, reading a book called Black Market Medicine. One look at us made him raise an eyebrow. ‘What’s the matter with you? Where have you been?’ he asked. We told him. Feluda heard us out, throwing in a few rapid questions every now and then, and added, ‘Well done!’ It was nice to be praised, but I knew what we had done was a big step for all of us. Something fishy was going on in that house. I had no doubt about that. ‘If I could, I would give you a special reward for bravery’,’ Feluda went on, ‘but let’s have a look at your weapon, Lalmohan Babu!’ Lalmohan Babu took out the prayer wheel from his shoulder bag. ‘Have you checked if it’s got the prayer in it?’ ‘Prayer? What prayer?’ ‘Om Manipadmey Hoom. It’s a Tibetan prayer. These words are either written or printed a thousand times on a piece of paper, which is then placed inside the wheel.’ ‘Really? How would they put it in?’ ‘The top of that little box with the chain should unscrew like a cap. You should find a piece of paper in it.’ Lalmohan Babu twisted the top of the box. It came off quite easily. He peered inside and said, ‘No, sir, no sign of a prayer.’ ‘Nothing at all?’ Lalmohan Babu moved closer to the window where the light was better and looked again. ‘No— wait a minute! There is something. It’s glistening in the light.’ ‘Let’s see.’ Feluda took the prayer wheel from Lalmohan Babu and had a good look into the box, holding it under a table lamp. Then he turned it over. A few pieces of glass slipped out. ‘Look at that large piece, Feluda. It must have been a glass pipe or something.’

‘No, not a glass pipe. It was an ampoule. Someone must have broken it accidentally, so they cast the whole thing aside.’ ‘Does that mean these prayer wheels are used to despatch spurious medicines?’ ‘Yes, that is entirely likely. What they probably do is fill these wheels with ampoules or capsules, and store them in packing cases in that house in the pig alley. From there they go to wholesalers,