‘Do sit down,’ Maganlal invited, switching the video off. Lalmohan Babu and I sat down on a settee, Feluda took a chair. ‘Well, Mr Mitter?’ Feluda said nothing. Like me, he was looking straight at Maganlal. He hadn’t changed much in these few years. He was still wearing a dhoti and a sherwani. The latter had clearly been made by an expert tailor. What had changed, of course, were his surroundings. A dark and dingy house in a narrow alley in Benaras was a far cry indeed from this luxurious suite in a five star hotel. ‘This time, I hope, you are on a real holiday, Mr Mitter?’ Maganlal asked. ‘No, Maganlalji, not really,’ Feluda said pleasantly. ‘Some people are just not destined to have a holiday without having to mix business with pleasure. I am one of them.’ ‘What business have you got here, Mr Mitter?’ Maganlal picked up a telephone. ‘Tea or coffee? You can get the best quality Darjeeling tea here.’ ‘In that case, let’s have tea.’ Maganlal rang room service, ordered tea for all of us and turned to Feluda again. ‘You are a big hero in India, Mr Mitter. But Nepal is a foreign country. Do you know many people here?’ ‘Well, I seem to have found at least one person I know!’ Maganlal smiled wryly. His eyes did not move from Feluda’s face. ‘Are you surprised to find me here?’ ‘Yes, I am, a little,’ Feluda lit a Charminar. ‘Not to find you outside the prison—I realize you have all the right connections to have organized an early release—but to see you outside Benaras.’ ‘Why? Benaras is a holy place, and so is Kathmandu. We have Baba Vishwanath there, and here’s Pashupatinath. My karma, you see, is related to places of dharma! What do you say, Uncle?’ ‘He heh!’ Lalmohan Babu tried to laugh. I could see he had gone visibly pale. All the horrors of Arjun’s knife-throwing must have come rushing back. ‘You talk of your karma, Maganlalji,’ said Feluda casually. ‘Would that by any chance involve drugs and medicines?’ A cold shiver ran down my spine. How could Feluda be so reckless? ‘Drugs? Medicines? What are you talking about?’ Maganlal sounded perfectly taken aback. ‘If you have nothing to do with them, then do you mind telling me what you’re doing here?’ ‘No, not at all. But we must have a fair exchange.’ ‘All right. You go first.’ ‘It’s all very simple, Mr Mitter. I am an art dealer—you know I like statues and paintings, don’t you? Many houses in Nepal are crammed with such stuff. My job is to collect them.’ Feluda remained silent. I could hear Lalmohan Babu breathing heavily. ‘Now you tell me about yourself.’

‘I don’t think you’ve been entirely honest with me,’ Feluda replied, ‘but I am going to be quite frank. I am here to investigate a murder.’ ‘Murder?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘You mean the murder of Mr Som?’ I gaped. Lalmohan Babu drew in his breath sharply.